


The Other Side Of Chapters

by maiaronan, tstrash



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-02-04 06:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiaronan/pseuds/maiaronan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tstrash/pseuds/tstrash
Summary: So after reading maiaronans fic called chapters,  I was inspired to create the other half of what her masterpiece is. If you haven't read chapters, I strongly suggest you read it before this so it makes more sense. So here I am, writing Tessa's side to the chapters of their story. Enjoy.





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [chapters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691713) by [maiaronan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiaronan/pseuds/maiaronan). 



Alma and carol told me that they found me a for real partner. His name is Scott and he is Alma’s son. That’s okay I suppose. I like Alma and Carol as coaches, so I trust them.

Were starting our first lesson as real partners today. We’ve been testing it out for about two weeks now but this is real I guess. He has been skating with some other girls but one was too tall for him. I only know this because I heard Carol say it a little too loud one-day last week. The other one doesn’t even come to skate very often, so I don’t think she is very serious about this. 

I hear Scott as soon as he comes into the rink. He’s very loud, and he loves to tease the girls. I think he’s funny. I might have a bit of a crush on him, but I am only 8.   
I heard him saying something about how he would rather be at hockey right now instead because here he can’t go as fast as he wants to. It’s Tuesday night, and it’s only an hour, I’m sure he will get to play hockey after this.

When I step on the ice, I hear Carol yell from the other side of the ice, “Come on Tessa and Scott” so I start skating towards them. As I am skating, Scott skates next to me and hold my hand. He didn’t look at me right away and I didn’t look at him. I knew it was him because his hand was warm, and sweaty. I don’t notice the sweat much anymore because I have started wearing big mitts. This is for two reasons. One, Scott’s hands are bigger than mine, and two, his hands are so sweaty, so mine just slips out. I don’t ever say anything about his sweaty hands because I don’t want to be rude. 

After were close to Carol and Alma, I started to fiddle with the sleeves of my coat. It’s still a little big, but I am trying to make it work. Scott breaks the silence.

“Let’s dance” he says with so much enthusiasm. I’m not quite on that level, so I look at him and smile, even though I don’t want to because I lost my front tooth yesterday and it’s embarrassing, but I can’t help it.

I just respond with a quiet “yes”. He starts to spin me around in circles and we follow a simple dance pattern. I think he does this to show off, but I am not sure who he is trying to show. His mom and his aunt? Me? 

I don’t know if he is cut out for dance. Scott is a very strong lead. Sometimes almost too strong to the point where I feel like he is throwing me around. I’m more of the gentle ballet type. I like soft and graceful movements, but I think Scott is still focused on going as fast as he can.

I felt him give my hand a squeeze as we changed holds. Even though we don’t talk very much, that was nice. At least he is trying, unlike a lot of the other boys in skating here. I don’t look at him when were in dance hold because I don’t want him to trip over my feet, so I have to look down most of the time. I don’t want to tell him that I’m afraid he is going to step on my foot. He should know, he’s older and has been doing this longer. He probably knows more stuff anyways. 

Carol suggests that we work on spinning, and Scott get’s really excited at this part. He loves to spin me super fast. It’s fun for a little bit, but then I start to feel sick. I didn’t quite get which foot to cross with what, but Scott was helpful. He just pointed and said “that one”. 

“Great work, Tessa” I hear Carol say to me, and I looked up for the first time in a while and smile at her. I like hearing when I’m doing something well. It makes me want to work hard. 

“Yeah, that was so good” Scott also told me. I also smiled at him, but it was different. He said it in a way where I actually believe him. Not like when he is being mean to the other girls and pretending to say nice things. I feel my eyes get a little wider, that means my smile is getting bigger. I couldn’t help but giggle cause he had a piece of hair sticking up on the top of his head, so I squeezed his hand.

“Thank you, Scott” I said politely. I like when he says nice things to me and the nice thing to do as a partner is to realize when he is nice. When I said this, it’s almost like a lightbulb went off in his head. I wonder what he was thinking. 

 

2

 

I went away for a while. Two months and three days, not that I’m really counting though. I was at ballet class back in April one day where my mom and the teacher came to talk to me after class. My teacher told me that there was a really cool chance for me at a fancy ballet school. I have heard of it before. It’s one of my dreams to study ballet. I really do love it.

I miss skating though. And something about skating with Scott made me miss it a little more than I thought I would. Sometimes I think about if Scott found a new partner or not. I’ve been gone for a while I guess.

So here I am at this fancy ballet school. I am the smallest girl in the last round of cuts. I’m intimidated because they are all taller than me. My mom told me not to worry about the height. “Quality over quantity” I keep replaying her words in my head.

We were waiting at home for the mail man to come. My letter from the ballet school should be coming today. It was going to say if I got in or not. I really hope I get in, but I hope I don’t. If I get in, I will never skate again! That sucks!

I always felt like something was missing when I was doing ballet. I haven’t skated in a while. I think that’s what it is. I mean, Scott and I are “official” now, so maybe I just miss him. I don’t know, this is all so confusing. I hate being young and faced with something like this. 

The mail man arrives. I’m so nervous I make my mom go and get it. I watch her through the window and she holds up the envelope with a huge smile on her face. It’s here. She came back into the house, called my dad downstairs, and we all sat together to open it.

I got in. Why am I not as excited as I should be? I thought it would feel better than it does to get into my dream school. Now I’m just sad. 

I didn’t say anything when my mom read me the letter. I just went to my room, slumped on the bed, and kicked my feet back and forth. I heard my mom follow me up the stairs, I knew she was following me. That’s fine I guess.

“Tessa, honey” I hear from the other side of the door. I don’t want to deal with this right now. 

“What” that came off colder than I meant for it too. She opened the door and I apologized for walking out. She sat next to me on the bed. “Aren’t you happy?” she asked me, with a lot of confusion. 

“Well, yes” I said, she knew I was about to say more so she didn’t say anything. “But I think I miss skating. And Scott and I are committed. I would feel bad leaving him.” I sound like a grown up. 

“What a very grown up thing to say” my mom says. Wow, she read my mind. “Well, if that is your choice, we can tell them no and revisit it another time. You do what you feel is right, T” she said it very simply. I know my mom supports anything I do, but I’m surprised she took that so well. 

I heard mom on the phone later that night with someone. I assume it was the ballet school, but she said “see you tomorrow” before she hung up. Where was she going tomorrow? 

Mom picked me up from school. My skating bag was in the back seat. “Am I going skating?” I said as I felt a smile take over my whole body. I started shaking, in a good way though. But I was nervous. I am so excited to skate again, but I am also really excited to see Scott. Is that weird? I mean I did give up ballet school for him… 

I didn’t see Scott when I walked in, but Carol was there. She gave me such a big hug when I walked in, I thought she was crush me. I was walking to the bench to get my skates on, but then I saw him. Almost as if I knew it was him, before I really saw him. 

He looked like he was deep in thought. He was kind of starting blankly out onto the rink, watching some of the older kids stroke around with their partners. I walk behind him a little bit, seeing if he will keep walking. He does, so I stop him. “Hey Scott” I called out to him, hoping he would stop walking away. 

He stops walking, and so do I. “Tessa?” he says pretty loudly, but I see him catch himself. He looks confused. We did have a summer break…

“Did you forget who I am? It’s only been a summer” I asked him, trying to see why he is so confused. Maybe he really did forget me over two months. Oh. 

He shook his head. Really hard. I thought he was going to hurt his neck, or make himself dizzy. “I thought you went to ballet school” he finally said. 

I gave a little pffft. “Oh. Yeah, I got in” I said really casually. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Now I have to explain why I’m here. Oh right. “But I told them that I’d already promised to be your partner, so I couldn’t go.” It was the truth. I’m all about telling the truth. 

“What?” he said, he was so confused. Boys.

“Yeah, I mean, we promised we’d be official partners, remember?” I felt like I needed to jog his memory, but I went about my business, taking my skates out of my bag. I finally sat down after this very…interesting… encounter with Scott. I could tell he needed more. “So I couldn’t just leave you. We were doing really good work before I left.”

“O-oh” that didn’t help clear things up. I looked up from my skates to meet his eyes. Wow I haven’t looked into his eyes in a long time. “Are you not happy to see me?” I said as I stood up to imply that I was ready to go. Huh, I grew. He is a little shorter than me. I hope this isn’t a problem. 

“I’m so happy” he says with his signature smile. The one that first made me think that he meant what he said to me. I remember that one so well. “Don’t ever try to leave me again” he said as he grabbed my mitts from the bench so I made sure I didn't forget them.

3

The car is so cold this early in the morning, I sometimes forget why I do this to myself. The moon is still out because it’s so early. This morning it’s my dads turn to drive, so I have to get up a little bit earlier than usual. He’s just a slower driver. We pull up in the cul-de-sac of the church where Scott and I meet every morning so we can carpool to Kitchener- Waterloo. 

He practically jumps in the car when he sees us pull up and he presses his face into the vents to get the heat that the car is trying to pump. “Ah-h-h, it’s so cold out there. Here, feel my hands” he says as he throws his hands at mine as I catch them. They were freezing, and I had just gotten mine to warm up, but he ruined that. 

“Thanks” he told me for helping him warm up his hands. The next thing I know is his cold hands moved up the sleeve of my jacket. 

“Stop!” I said, the rasp from only being awake for like half an hour came out but I couldn’t help but laugh. It was funny. He is always so funny. Even at 5 in the morning. But his hands were really cold, so it was almost an uncomfortable laugh. I started to slap his hands away because my arms were now getting cold. 

“Alright, pipe down kids” I hear my dad say from the front. Were obviously getting to a part of the drive where he has to concentrate. He blasts his country music to keep himself awake, where as this kind of music sends me out like a light. I was asleep so fast this morning. 

I love sleeping. I find myself dreaming a lot. I talk to Scott about the Olympics and how it is my dream. It’s good to know that he has that dream too. I dream about skating with Scott. I dream about Scott sometimes. Usually they are tame. Just us, hanging out, watching a movie or something. Nothing overly crazy. But it’s just Scott and I. No one else is ever in them. 

I heard a deep sigh over my dream, so I fixed my position a little bit. I’m too tired to care, so I let my head fall on Scott’s shoulder. I like that he doesn’t try to push it off right away. 

I don’t know if he knows that I have done this before. Maybe we need a pillow or system or something. I’m sure he doesn’t want my head constantly resting on him.   
Something about when I have my head on Scott’s shoulder helps me fully relax. I think it’s his aura. I smile through my sleep. I can feel it, and then I feel his head rest on mine.

4

“Shut up.”

Scott has never said those words to me before. He’s pissed. But so am I. 

My face is red. Of course, it’s red. I’m stupid angry right now. I didn’t say anything back. It’s not worth it. So I just stormed out instead. It usually has more effect on him than any of my words anyways. I hate being angry at Scott, but I physically cannot help myself right now. 

I found a bench in the lobby and sat down with my hands rubbing my face and my legs crossed but shaking. I hear the doors from the rink squeak open. I know they’re coming after me, so I look up from my hands and glare at Scott. I’m so angry at him. I’ve never been more angry at him. 

I see Suzanne pushing Scott towards me. He looks like he’s been crying. Good, he should feel like shit right now. I stood up, assuming my position to defend myself. 

“Let’s be nice to each other and talk about what went wrong there. Tessa?” Suzanne gives me the floor, so I’m about to lay it out there. 

“She-“ Scott always interrupts me when things get tense. I bite my lip and clench my fists. I hate when he does this.

“I said Tessa” Suzanne interrupts him very sternly and he shuts up immediately. Thank goodness for Suzanne’s harsh side sometimes. 

I straighten my back, continue to glare at Scott. Of course a loose piece of hair ruins this for me and falls in front of my face. This is one of those moments where I wish I wasn’t so mad at him because he would tuck it back behind my ear for me and I would blush. 

I will not let my hair ruin this. I continued to glare at him through the strand of hair. “I just feel like I practice all the time and I care all the time about this” I said super quietly. I was afraid my voice was going to crack and I would start to cry out of frustration. “Scott just fools around and wastes our time every single practice.” There, I said it. 

I can see Scott tense up. He’s about to get defensive. It’s still my turn though.

“That’s so unfa-“ he starts and then Suzanne goes “nuh uh, Tessa’s turn.” You tell him, Suzanne. 

Now he’s glaring back at me. Okay, Moir, I’ll give you a staring contest. “We’ve done this step sequence a million times” I said, with exasperation, and I can hear the pitch of my voice rise. “And he just forgets it every time. We’ve done this program a million times. I can’t keep reminding him how to do it. He should just remember how to do it!” Ugh, he’s so frustrating sometimes, he needed to hear the truth. 

I saw him open his mouth, about to say something snarky back, but I noticed Suzanne tighten her grip on his arm, stopping him from saying whatever would inevitably make this worse. 

“Okay, Scott?” Suzanne softly gave him permission to talk. And he just goes off.

“I would remember it if you didn’t stare me down every single time, like you’re judging me!” he blurts out as if he has been holding that in forever. He’s clenching his fists. He needs a pillow to punch. Too bad I’m the only one that knows this. “I get so nervous when we get to that part because I know you’e gonna give me that face-“

“What face?” Now I’m testing him to see if he even knows what he’s talking about. What face was he talking about?

“Tessa don’t interr-“ 

“That stupid I’m so much better than you face” Scott said. What the hell? 

“Scott-“ Suzanne was going to try to descaled the situation but he was not finished.. neither was I. 

“Maybe if you just remembered you steps I wouldn’t have to give you whatever this face is—” I interrupted him back. 

“Maybe I would remember the steps if it didn’t look like you’re gonna fucking murder me every time I fuck up—”

I am fuming right now. I can’t believe him. 

“Scott.” Suzanne was trying, did she know this wasn’t gonna work?

I can’t contain my anger. I don’t want to say what I am about to say I’m better than that. But here it goes. 

“Maybe if you didn’t suck dick-“

“ENOUGH.” Suzanne grab us both and I feel her nails digging straight into my arm. We both shut our mouths, but my body is just heaving with anger.

Suzanne drops us, and puts her head in her hands again. She looks like she wants be anywhere, except here, with two fuming, cranky pre-teens who look like they’re ready to fight to the death. I don’t blame her. 

“This is never going to happen again,” she says, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Not the yelling, not the language, not the attitude. We are going to talk nicely about things from now on. Because fighting like this is not acceptable, nor is it productive. And it is not allowed, at least not with me around. Understand?”

The tension is cuttable with a butter knife. We’re still glaring at each other, silence taking over.

“Tessa. Scott.”

“Yes,” we say in unison, but I know neither of us are feeling it.

“Now both of you are going to apologize, nicely, to one another. Tessa, you first.”

Why do I always have to go first? That’s unfair. Maybe it’s cause I’m the bigger person and I can own up to my crap. I start breathing so fast, I suddenly feel light headed. “I’m sorry I make you feel like you’re not good enough,” I say, and I hope it sounded sincere. I hesitated for a second, but then I noticed Scott’s look turn from anger to sadness. “I don’t mean it,” I continued, tugging at my jacket, trying to get it in a more comfortable spot, and divert from what’s unfolding in front of me. I stopped glaring at him and moved my gaze to the floor. Shit that was intense. I didn’t notice until I stopped glaring. “You’re the best skater I know, Scott. I’m sorry I’m too intense. I know it’s a big problem I have and I promise I’ll try my best to work on it.” I really should work on being patient with him. He’s trying. I know he is. Now I feel even worse. 

I can feel him looking at me, so I look up again and we lock eyes. “I’m sorry I yelled” he said. He means it. I can tell. “I’m really bad at… keeping stuff under control. I’m sorry I swore. I’m sorry I was mean. I’m sorry I made you upset. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know that I was swearing in my head the whole time. Those were the only words I could think of. Now I’m crying, thinking about how stupid this whole thing was.

And now I’m in his arms. He pulled me in tight. I don’t want to hug him back cause he is the reason I’m crying, but he starts to awkwardly pat my back, so I hug him back, hoping he’ll stop. 

I didn’t notice that Suzanne had left us alone until Scott started rubbing circles into my back. He wouldn’t do that with other people around. I was sobbing now. How could he go from so angry to so… loving? I held him tighter, wrapping my arms all the way around, squeezing as tight as I could. I didn’t want to let go. Even though I’m a mess right now, this is the place where I feel the most calm. 

“Aw, Tess” he said softly into my hair. I felt his breath hit my head and I looked up. I know my eyes are puffy. They always get puffy after I cry. Oh crap, I wore makeup today. “I’m gonna” I can’t breathe. I was crying too much, “go to the washroom” I spat out the rest. 

He nodded then asked if I wanted him to wait. Of course I wanted him to wait. “Yes please” I whispered and gave his hand a small squeeze before I went into the bathroom to see what mess had been left on my face. 

I started by securing the loose piece of hair that had fallen earlier back in the bun on top of my head. Then, with a warm paper towel I wiped off my smeared eyeliner and mascara that was now all over my cheeks. Once that all off, I splashed my face with cold water, clapping my cheeks a few times. “Get it together!” I was giving myself a pep talk in the mirror. I held a cold paper towel under my eyes for a couple minutes to get the swelling down, and the finally dried my face with the sleeve of my shirt. I let out a huge sigh, took a couple deep breaths and finally willed myself to leave the washroom. 

There he was, waiting for me. He looks so tired. I feel so bad. “Okay” I finally said, trying to bring it back to a good place. I took his hand and said “I’m ready.” 

5

I just finished a really good workout at the gym. I love the workouts when I break out into a good sweat. It makes me feel a sense of accomplishment. But, I’m ready to go home for the day, so I threw on my hoodie and sweats, took my hair out of the tight ponytail it was in, grabbed my bag and headed out of the locker room.

“Hey” I hear his voice come from behind me as I walk to the door. “Didn’t think I would run into you here.” 

His jokes are so dumb, they’re funny. I won’t let him see that though. “Hey” I turn around and my eyes immediately lock with his. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. I wonder if he has noticed it too. 

Scott looks really good lately. He’s maturing and it’s nice to see. His shoulders are broader, and his glutes and thighs are very strong looking. His face is starting to define a little bit more. And he’s looking at me in a different way. I wonder if I am looking at him differently. I know I have been thinking about him differently lately. 

He walked up to me. He must’ve grew cause now he is about three inches taller than I am. I think it’s the perfect height distance. Well, I like it. It’s cute. 

“What are you doing tonight?” His words kind of caught me off guard, but I smiled. “Sleeping” duh, Scott. Cue eye roll. “The same thing I do every night” that’s kind of sad, and now I’m thinking more than I should be. “It’s not like I have any friends here.”

I thought he knew this. “Oh” he looks uncomfortable so that’s his word he uses to fill space till he thinks of something else to say. Why do I know this much about him? Huh. “Well, I was going to ask you if you…wanted to watch a movie?” hmmm, tempting. 

“Will you let me pick?” I bat my eyelashes at him and widen my eyes a bit. He won’t say no to that. It’s fool proof. Well, Scott proof.   
“Yes. Damn, you’re gonna make me watch a boring old movie aren’t you?”

He knows me so well… like really well. “They’re not boring!” I protest. I really do like old movies. Something about them speaks in ways new movies do not. “They’re art.”

I have yet to convince him of this. “Uh huh”. Yup, not convinced. I started walking out towards his car, I figured he would follow. Scott’s car is old, but I can’t complain. I don’t have a licence yet, and this is better than one of our parents, or host parents, or other skaters driving us around. Scott is proud of himself. I can tell by the way he sits in the driver’s seat and puffs his chest a little before turns the key in the ignition. 

It’s fun when we go to the grocery store together. I feel like it’s the break we both need. Scott always tries to convince me to steal bulk candy with him and eat it in the store so we don’t have to pay for it. I end up feeling bad and just buying a little bit, along with the ice cream that we end up always arguing over the flavor, but in the end, he always lets me have which one I want. I’ve noticed he’s been really nice with me lately. Maybe it’s just cause we’re older and more mature. But I don’t know…

We’re in the car heading home. I’m wiped. I feel my eyes wanting to shut, but I’m trying to keep them open. I really want to watch this movie with Scott. But I can’t help it, so I rest my head against my hand and look out the window trying to keep myself awake. 

“Are you getting enough sleep?” he asked me out of no where. He really is starting to pick up on the little things. Would a friend do that? It’s not all the sleep.   
It’s this whole thing.

“Mm” is all I can seem to come up with. 

“Do you still want to watch a movie? I can just drop you off and you can go to sleep if you want” he’s so sweet sometimes. I still really want to watch the movie.   
“No” that’s not what I meant. So I turn to him and cover the no with a smile. It’s small as I respond with “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” He groans, and I love it. I know he’s not happy with the choice, but he’ll do it. 

“We’ve seen that before” he decides to point out. If I keep batting my eyelashes, he won’t change his mind. I kinda like having this power over him.   
We’re curled up on the couch and I have a blanket curled up around my feet and legs. Scott is eating all of the M&M’s out of the trail mix and usually I would have a lot to say about that, but I just don’t care tonight. 

I don’t really know what part of the movie we’re at. I’m not really watching. I’m too busy thinking about this whole situation. I miss home. I’m doing my best out here, and I have Scott and that’s nice. But something about having your family just makes it all better. 

Scott scooted closer and I think I know what’s coming. “What’s wrong, T?” he asked very out there. But then he lowered his breathing and his soft tone came out when he asked “did something happen at school today?” he started shaking his head. I know he cares. I appreciate it. It’s okay. It’s more than okay to have someone care like that.   
Honesty is my best policy. I feel a stab in my heart thinking about how I am admitting this to not only Scott, but also myself. “I just miss home” I said as I pulled my knees to my chin, trying to huddle in the warmth of myself. I really wish he would just give me a hug right now. That’s what I need. 

He put his arm around me. That’s enough. It’s not like that between us. I don’t think. It’s just the comfort that a partner can offer. I don’t know what to do at this point, so I flopped down into him, but I didn’t really feel anything. I was kind of just laying there. But then he did it. He wrapped his arms around me, making me feel the comfort that only he could give.

“Do you ever feel like... this is kind of weird?” Oh gosh, what did I just blurt out?

“What is weird?” Scott asked me. How do I explain my very quick and probably irrational thought. 

“Like, everything,” I said, picking my head up from his chest to look at him. I’m almost distracted again by the softness of his eyes. “Like, I dunno, not going to stuff other kids go to because we’re at the rink all the time. Like having to tell people you’re going to Slovakia but only because you’re skating. Not doing the cool stuff they expect you to do. And...” I didn’t know if I should say it so I bit my lip. Ah, why not I guess. “Well, okay... when someone asks about me... what do you say?”

“I’m… confused” he says. Of course he’s confused. I’ll see if I can explain this better. “Okay,” I said as I puts my hand on his shoulder. “Like, do people ever ask stuff like, who’s that girl you’re always hanging out with?” that was dumbed down enough. 

“Oh, I just say you’re the girl I skate with. And then I have to explain the whole ice dance thing to them. And then they get weirded out and confused.”

“Right. And then they ask if we’re dating.”

“Well I hang out with a bunch of guys so it’s more like are you guys fu—”

“Scott.” I tried to redirect him back to the question. They would ask if we were doing it. 

“Okay okay, sorry. But yeah they’ll ask what we’re really doing or something like that. And I always tell them we’re just dance partners. And we’re really good friends too. Because you know, I’ve known you since... forever.”

There’s a silence. I feel myself breathing heavier, but I also feel Scott’s breath as well. I am pressed against his chest but now I’m aware of this breathing, and the way his body feels against mine, and how relaxed and warm he is, and how good he smells, even though we just came back from skating for an entire day. And now I feel Scott awkwardly shifting a little bit, but then it’s fine. Wonder what that was. 

I felt the need to close my eyes. And just like that I was sleeping. Well, sort of. 

I didn’t hear anything, but I shuddered when I felt a touch run through my hair and down my back. I don’t know if I didn’t like that he did that or not.  
I kind of want him to do it again. 

I snapped myself out of the thought. “Right” oh my voice is hoarse, which means it’s time for bed. But I remembered what I was thinking about before I drifted off, so I figured I would finish my thought. “Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.” 

“What is?” Did he fall asleep too? Wait, I’m confused. 

“Just dance partners” I repeated, hoping that’s what was said before. Now I wonder if my memory is a bit skewed. I darted my eyes back to the movie hoping that it would keep me awake. “And really good friends. Nothing weird.” I didn’t like how that felt when I said that. That doesn’t feel right. 

I wonder if it feels right to him. Just partners? Does he believe that?

I felt Scott straighten up and I’m still resting on him. “Tessa, look at me” he whispered into my ear and I felt a rush down my spine when his lips brushed my earlobe. Something isn’t right. He used my real name, not Tess, not kiddo. Tessa. That is rare. My body automatically tensed and I felt the need to grip the side of the couch. My breath quickens in an automatic response to unfamiliar situations and my heart is pounding. I wonder if he feels it. I don’t know what’s coming next. But in an indescribable way, I do. 

How is it that I always know what Scott is thinking? Or that he’s looking at me and I know? Or I’m looking at him and he knows? Or he can just tell when something is off? There is no explanation. 

I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t know if I was ready. I know what he’s thinking. Why? How? I just… and then it happened.

I’ve never kissed anyone until this moment. I mean, back at the Ilderton carnival when I was nine, Scott kissed my cheek. But that was as close as I’ve ever been. It wasn’t what I had pictured. But it was better. Scott is so gentle. He went in for it and slowly pressed his lips to mine. It’s not sloppy, and his lips are warm. I kissed back and I felt my fingers lace with his, but I moved them up to his hair. Now that is something that I pictured. Maybe this is what was supposed to happen, and now I know what is going on between us.   
“I love you” he says after he exhales.

Now I don’t know what is going on between us. I was blushing a second ago, but as soon as he said that, I felt all the blood rush into my heart and it feels like it’s beating a thousand miles a minute. I feel confusing setting in again and I don’t know what to think. 

And I don’t think Scott knows either.


	2. part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got emotional doing this honestly

6

My mom has always been a big influence when it comes to my style. This includes my bedroom décor. Since I’ve moved a few times now, it’s always important that I have a bedroom that makes me feel at home. It’s always clean, crisp, and perfectly arranged. With white bed sheets, white curtains, and my walls tastefully decorated with varying white and black posters and pictures. Mostly flowers, ballet, and the Eiffel tower. Even if my mom didn’t influence my style, I was never the pink wall and boy band poster type. Maybe it’s cause I’ve always felt more mature than my age. 

There is also the piece where I feel like I have to be clean and neat for both Scott and I. He is always the one that takes stuff out of suitcases and boxes when he needs it. He always says that he doesn’t know how long he’ll be in one place and I don’t really know what that means but whatever makes him feel better about his mess I suppose.  
I’ve always loved the concept of stringing lights in my room. Something about when you’re curled up in bed and reading a good book under fairy lights makes the experience a bit more enjoyable. 

Sometimes it looks like I’m decorating for Christmas, and a part of me is because I love Christmas, but I also just like the look. It’s not a crime to enjoy the light.

And then there’s Scott. “Decorating for Christmas already?” he commented when he walked into my room. Doing his little thing with his nose where he wrinkles it and looks around like he’s lost. It’s only September, Scott. Don’t be ridiculous. That happens at the end of October. 

“It makes it more… homey” I comment back as I plop down on my bed. I noticed Scott pushing the door shut, and that’s fine. It’s just Scott. And were only going to do something pretty illegal. That’s also fine, I guess? Scott came over and sat down next to me on the bed and put his arm around my shoulder. I still don’t know what any of this means. 

“What do we have?” I asked him as I just went for it and pressed my body into his. 

“No fucking clue” Scott responds. He’s in this phase right now where he thinks it’s cool to swear about everything and it’s actually really annoying. I’ve tried to tell him to relax, but then he turns it into a joke and swears more, so I just ignore it to keep it at bay. 

He took the bottle out of the paper bag and then threw the bag on the floor. Damn that boy has no respect for the cleanliness of my room. I squirmed when it dropped to the floor and I felt Scott’s hold around me tighten ever so slightly. “Leave it” he whispered into my ear. I didn’t reach for it, but I stared at it for a while, hoping I had some power with my eyes to just move it 5 feet to the garbage can. 

Everything on the bottle is in another language—Russian, we think—so when he said he had no fucking clue what he had stolen—er, borrowed—from the stash back at the coaches’ house, he wasn’t lying. You know it’s strong when there is the diagram on the back of the pregnant woman with a big red X overtop. 

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asked me as he tried really hard to figure out how the lid came off. Before I even had to think about how stupid he was for asking, he was smelling the liquor and gagging. This is gonna be fun. “Cause if you are I’m afraid we have to cut this party short.” Oh shut up, Scott and just drink it. 

I felt my face flush at the entirety of his thought. Now he was laughing at me. “No!” I hissed at him. It wasn’t all that funny of a joke this time. I don’t know if I rolled my eyes at how unimpressed with him I was, or if they were going into the back of my head because of the smell of the liquor. “Ugh, smells like jet fuel” I say through coughs and the thick of my sleeve covering my nose and mouth. “This is so illegal. I cannot believe I agreed to this.” 

“Good thing you can always illegally take my car and illegally drive me to the hospital if this doesn’t work out for me,” he says as he tips the mouth of the bottle to his lips. 

“Cheers.”

Now to keep up with his not really funny, but funny in a Scott way type of joke I respond coldly. “I would let you die.” That was very weird to say. 

I can see Scott forcing himself to swallow whatever poison was in the bottle. His face is red and his eyes are watering. “You wouldn’t let me die” he tried to say playfully, between sticking his tongue out for air and swallowing hard. He passed me the bottle which meant my turn. Uh oh. 

I looked at the bottle one more time to see if there was any remanence of English, but nope. “Oh yes I would” I insisted, keeping to the joke. “I’d find another partner the next day, Scott Moir.” I raised the bottle up to him in a toast. “To us” and then I take a swig. Holy shit that is something. I almost spat it out. “Holy sh-“ was all I could get out before I started coughing and choking on the taste and feeling of my throat completely burning.

He took the bottle back from me and I couldn’t thank him enough. He was grinning at me so widely. Why though? What was so amusing to him about watching me choke on alcohol? Is it bad that I’m already feeling a buzz off of one swig? Probably. 

“To our senior debut,” he says, tipping more into his mouth. It looks like it burns a little less this time and that is reassuring. He handed me the bottle back. I guess were going shot for shot. 

“To our future international senior debut.”

“To winning everything” he amends. 

“To us making the Olympics next year” I say before taking the biggest sip yet. The Olympic dream deserves a big swig. That was a mistake because it almost didn’t make it down. 

“Impressive” Scott’s side comment caught me off guard and I can feel my neck turning red. He took the bottle from me. “Woah. Careful there, princess.” Princess? 

“I’m not a princess” I growled at him and snatched the bottle back from him. Now this is war. I can’t see straight, and I can’t think straight. All I’m thinking is that this is a competition now. “You are” he says back with a heightened sense of his usual arrogance. I kinda like it. So this is what they mean by liquid courage. “You’re my princess” he says very sure of himself. Ah damn, now I really like that. But this is drunk Scott, and I’m a little drunk too. It doesn’t mean anything. 

I shot him a glare, but I can’t help but turn it into a smile when I see how cute he looks all dazed and drunk in my bed next to me. Wait, back to the thought. “I’m. Not. Your. Princess” I told him sternly, trying to stand up and then a click. Now it’s dark and I fell back onto the bed, and Scott is right there. Liquid courage. I moved my face into where I heard him breathing from and pressed my lips to his. And now the lights are back on, but they’re in my head, and they are shining brighter than they were before.

7

I’m not one to openly show emotion. It’s just not my thing. I rarely cry, and I feel like I have mastered how to shove every real feeling I have all the way down until it is buried and not relevant. But I’m always quick to pull myself back together. I really don’t like when people see me like that. Only a few have. My mom, my dad, my sister, and Scott. I don’t really like it when Scott sees it, but it’s his sixth sense. 

And all of those people and more came out to Ottawa to watch us make the Olympic team, and they wasted their time. And they are all in the same building and probably wanting to see me or us at some point today, but here I am, struggling to pick myself up off of the bathroom floor. 

I didn’t really want to go see everyone this morning. That’s why I’m sneaking out this early. I’m not in the mood. I showered, didn’t quite make it back to my bed before I resumed crying, but I eventually made it there and I didn’t sleep. I didn’t do anything except lie awake and stare at the ceiling. And cried. A lot. I thought about texting Scott a few times during the night to see if he wanted to sneak away, but he sleeps better than I do now so I didn’t want to disturb him. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I felt like I should try and eat something. The entire hotel is silent and that’s a good thing cause it means no one is awake yet.

After I watched my hotel door shut, I turned to go down the hallway, and all the way down at the other end, Scott was doing the same thing. Someone else might have to look twice to see if that was him, but I knew it was. I don’t know if I want to run to him, or if I want to go back into my room and hope he never saw me. I don’t know what to say to him. Should we pretend nothing happened? Should we even talk about it?

He looks good. His hair was a little damp on the tips meaning he showered or styled it, probably both. And he was wearing his Canada jacket which is classic Scott. His eyes lock into mine, and something about it makes me think that everything is okay again. And in this moment, it is. Now he’s smiling at me, and I feel like I’m smiling, but I just can’t do it.  
Now he’s walking towards me and I’m glad he is because I almost went back into my room. I felt like I couldn’t move and my heart picked up in tempo. I’m really trying to look at him to see if I can see what he’s thinking but I can’t. Maybe it’s cause I’m so dead tired. 

He’s getting closer and I feel my feet pick up from under me. I swear there is a magnet that always pulls us together and sometimes I hate it and sometimes I love it. He didn’t hesitate when we finally met. He pulled me into a hug and murmured “hi” into my ear, and I feel a smile come across my face. How does Scott always manage to do this…

I hugged him back briefly before letting go and realizing how weak my body actually is. He let me go and his face dropped when he saw mine. 

There are very few occasions when Scott isn’t happy to see me. The one time back in our baby days in Kitchener- Waterloo when I told him to suck a dick, and the time where after he kissed me for the first time, I told him I needed some time and walked away. And I looked back at him and his eyes were so sad so he just left. 

In the moment when his face drops, I know that he sees what I’m trying to hide. I looked away to avoid his gaze, hoping he didn’t look long enough to notice. “Hi” I said quietly down to the ground. 

I didn’t know if I should be the one to talk or if he should talk first. The silence between us was awkward at first, but then he took my hand and rubbed the warmth back into it. His hands are always so warm. He is always so warm. 

I couldn’t help but look back up at him. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I already cried all night. No more, Tessa. Then, there was a brief second, I could see in Scott’s eyes where he was waiting for me to ask what I had been wanting to this whole time. Without saying anything, I asked the question, knowing he would receive it. What now? 

I heard him swallow loud. He’s about to answer. “Well, we can go down and get some breakfast?” 

Exactly what I didn’t want to hear. “I…I don’t know if I can deal with everybody right now. You know?” Obviously, I thought about this more than he has. Makes sense though, he was probably sleeping like a normal human being. 

I can tell he’s beating himself up for his last remark, and it’s okay, I just thought I would point it out. “Didn’t even think about that” he said as he exhaled loudly and let his head fall on top of mine. He smells good, he always does. 

“That’s why I’m here to do the thinking” I reply with nothing behind it, except for the fact that I just spent the last 12 ish hours thinking and crying. 

“Let’s go somewhere then. Skip the shitty continental breakfast, skip the pity party with our aunts and cousins and brothers and moms and whoever else decided to come along. Let’s go somewhere nice” Scott says. It doesn’t even need to be nice, just away from here. 

I can feel the light come back into me. Scott always knows what to say, even though he doesn’t always think about what he says. “Yeah?” I asked him, making sure this wasn’t a joke or something. I knew it wasn’t a joke, and I feel happiness fill within me.

“Yeah” he said as he ruffled my hair like he did back when I was eight. “I’ll buy. We deserve it” he told me as he kisses my temple and I feel myself fall into him a little bit. I want to fall all the way. When I look up at him, I feel my fingers lace into his and give him a reassuring squeeze. 

It’ll all work out the way it’s meant to. It might seem bleak right now, but it’ll all work out. I hope Scott is thinking that too. 

It’s freezing outside and it just snowed so the streets are piled. I pull my hat down to fully cover my ears and my scarf is covering my mouth the slightest bit. I wonder if anyone will care that we left, or even notice. We can just say we slept in. We’re teenagers, that’s what were supposed to do. 

Scott and I wander around the city until I finally complain that I can’t feel my toes and we dip into a small café, lined with brick. Obviously, I get a hot chocolate and Scott gets a coffee. The seats by the fire place bring back the warmth that was lacking from my body a minute ago and the silence between us is comfortable. My eyes are half closed. I’m exhausted, but I’m content and I see Scott in the chair across from me, looking at me with a smile that feels warmer than the fire.

In this moment, it’s like this is the world we were meant to be in, and skating was just a side thing. 

8

Scott has this thing where he get’s really into our program music and he can’t help but sing along. It can be annoying sometimes, depending what he’s singing, but usually it’s hilarious and adorable and totally Scott. Marina on the other hand, hates it. I think that’s why she chose a French song for us because she knows we don’t speak French, therefore he won’t sing along. 

She doesn’t know Scott at all. This is more of an excuse to sing terribly and all of the wrong words. Nothing will stop him. We’re only a few weeks into Umbrella’s and Scott is doing very poorly at learning French, but doing a very good job of making me laugh. 

“Comon la tu apple-ay?” Is what I think he is saying. That’s not French for anything. But he’s reaching out for my waist and his goofy face makes me lose my concentration. I try to only giggle a little bit so we can keep going and so Marina doesn’t yell at us, but I totally lost my place. “Francoiseeeeeeeee” he wails at the top of his lungs and I’m struggling for air as I push away from him laughing. 

“Scott, be serious!” Marina barks at him from the boards. 

Now I’m wiping tears from my eyes because I’m laughing so hard. “We should” I say as I’m trying to catch my breath. “Come on” I smile at him as I take his hands to pull him back to our starting position. The whole next run through, I can see Scott holding in the words and he looks like he is about to burst. He’s so funny sometimes.

This is a moment that doesn’t die over the next few months. He sings the song at the top of his lungs in the worst French accent possible, I laugh till I cry, but then I tell him to be serious. And it works for a few hours until he’s making me laugh again. It’s a good system that takes both of us to make it work and that’s why were a good team.

"Representing Canada, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir." 

Life is kind of surreal now. I feel like things are finally clicking into place. We have medals. People make signs for us at competitions. We’re seniors. We’re doing all the stuff we’ve only been able to watch other skaters do for years. Every day I feel this low hum of excitement under my chest, like what I’m walking on isn’t exactly real. There’s something great and important in the distance, something that we can’t see yet but we can hear and feel, like faraway drums that are beating louder and louder with each step. 

I knew everything went the way it did for a reason. And I know Scott feels this too. 

I feel my mind go to this place a lot lately. I think about it all the time, but something about Umbrella’s heightens that feeling for me and I don’t know how much longer I can contain it. I don’t think about choreography like I used to. I just do it without having to think about it. It’s an amazing thing, but it gives my mind time to think about other things, things I’m still not sure I should be thinking about. 

I see Scott as a man. He isn’t that little nine-year-old that pulled my hair the first time he saw me. He is dedicated, hard working, muscular, and a seamless skater. I push myself everyday so he sees how hard I work, and I think that motivates him to work just as hard. I try not to look when were changing, but when he takes his shirt off, you can tell the hard work is paying off. He is very defined and fit. He still gives me the same little smirk that he always did. The one where he tips his head to the side a little bit and the smile just happens. My heart flutters every time because I know it’s more than what his regular old smile is. And I’m really starting to like when he sings along to our programs. It’s the passion he has for what he does that intrigues me so much. It’s good. It’s really good.

The moment at the very end of our program had a heightened feeling this time. I see the full brown of Scott’s eyes. Wide and full of love. I think this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. He’s got me captured, physically in his arms, but emotionally as well. I’m all in now. 

Mon amour, goes the music, and I don’t know if he slipped up and sang along out of habit, but I noticed. Je t’aime my lips form in a response. That is the feeling. 

Mon amour.

Je t’aime.

It all seems so simple now. 

I hear the strings swell in the core of my body and I realize that whatever he was feeling a second ago when he sang those words, we are both in it. I realize that this man dancing on a cloud in front of me is the one who's pulling me into something intoxicating. I can't escape anymore. He has me locked in. This—he—is my entire life.  
I hear the thunderous roar of the audience, and out of the corner of my eye I see people rising from their seats. I blink, almost in a daze. Is that the end? Did we finish? When did we start skating? Where was I? Surely, this was only a dream.

Scott isn't just looking at me, he's looking into me. And his eyes are soft and happy. Something magical just happened and I think he knows this too. Now I know what is going on. This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting for. 

 

9

He asked me to explain and re-explain everything at least five times over. I get why, so every time I explain it, slowly and calmly. Little does he know I’m having just as hard of a time with this as he is. His arms are shaking and his knuckles are white from gripping the arm rests so tight. Good thing I waited till we were in my driveway. 

I didn’t want to tell Scott I was getting surgery. I had a hard time admitting how much pain I’m in to him. It all happened so quickly. The pain in my legs is unbearable and the doctor only recommended this last week. I didn’t know they had it set up for tomorrow. But, they know that I’m an Olympic contender and they want me back as soon as possible. I want to be back as soon as possible.

I really hope my mom was listening to the doctor talk because all I am thinking about right now is Scott? How should I tell him? How is he going to react? What is going to happen between us? All of these questions were eating me alive. I was worried about it, sure. But I know that Scott is going to be more worried. 

I sighed deeply and leaned into the back of the seat. I knew this was going to be hard. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, pleading with me to change my mind.

“Yes. It’s worth a shot. Because if I don’t do it, I know this will only get worse” I try to explain to him. 

“But…”

“Scott. They won’t accidentally saw my leg off or anything. I’ll be back soon, in one piece” I told him before silence took over yet again. I’m waiting for him to say something reassuring or caring to me, but nope. Nothing. 

“Still not convinced, huh?” I sighed again, this time with more emphasis. 

“Well you kind of told me you’re leaving tomorrow for an indefinite period of time” he starts. “Thirty minutes ago. Give me a little longer to… I dunno, process.” Now he’s not so much confused as he is pissed off. I don’t blame him, I really did spring this on him at the last second. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I haven’t mentioned this part yet. 

“I only made the decision last week” I confess, quietly, now defending my decision. 

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Scott demands. I feel like shit now. 

“I didn’t want to worry you” I replied, feeling my body tensing underneath me. “We would’ve been a hot mess the entire week if you’d known that I was leaving for surgery the entire time. You would’ve looked for excuses to get me off the ice. It wouldn’t have been productive” I tried to explain my reasoning to the best of my ability. This was the truth, though. I know Scott always wants to look after me and protect me, and I appreciate it, but he couldn’t have protected me from this. It was a decision I had to make on my own.  
He’s making the face where he knows I’m right. His anger disappears and the worry moves in. This was the response I was hoping for. “Anyway” I continued. Trying to relieve some of the tension, I moved my hand over his in attempts to smooth out his knuckles and give them back some circulation. “I’m going to go, I’m going to get the surgery, I’m going to be in physio for a few months, and then I’m coming back. That’s the plan. Okay?” I have never wanted him to say okay more in my life. 

I feel my heart pick up again. The anxiousness that comes with saying something of this caliber to the most important person in your life makes it terrifying but relieving all at the same time. 

I heard Scott’s loud exhale between my thoughts, followed by a small “okay.”

Okay. Good, I guess. Before this gets harder than it already is and I start crying, I give Scott a quick kiss on the cheek. There was a moment briefly where a ten-year-old Scott flashed into my head, and his small voice whispered 'don’t ever leave again'. I remember it as if it were yesterday. 

I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m leaving him. He’s putting on a brave face for me, and while I appreciate the effort, I know that this is absolutely crushing him. I just want to hold him and never let him go, but that isn’t realistic. We both know this needs to happen. 

We get out of the car, and Scott grabs my stuff from the back seat like he always does. I start walking to the porch of my house, unlock the front door and enter into the foyer. Scott follows me inside like he always does. I’m really glad he does that. 

I’m just realizing how hard this is and the interaction doesn’t feel as natural as it does every other day. “You can set the stuff out here” I whispered softly to him. It feels like my throat is closing and I can’t get the words out, like the feeling you get before you’re about to cry. Don’t cry, Tessa. You got this. 

“I’m… leaving tomorrow morning” I mentioned as I looked in the other direction. I feel myself about to cry, and looking at him will only make that happen. I really and truly feel like I’m struggling right now. I don’t know what is going on anymore. I can’t stop judging Scott for everything he does. I can tell that he sees me as a young adult. I know that he has the utmost respect for me, and vise versa. But I cant help but shake the fact that I can feel my glare at him and everything about our interactions seems lost. Maybe it’s because I’m growing up, and he is too. Maybe we just aren’t the same Tessa and Scott we were before. Maybe he sees me differently and intuitively I feel that. I can’t pin point what it is. I am nineteen now. I can make my own decisions I don’t need him to tell me everything, I don’t need his help anymore. Maybe I don’t need him like I used to… I don’t know why I’m thinking this because I really need him more than ever. 

I see his eyes searching me in the same way that I now find myself searching him. He must be thinking the same thing. 

My heart skips a beat. Weirdly I feel like his did too. Did we just grow apart in the last twenty minutes? No. I can’t let this go like this. 

“I love you” I said out of the silence. My heart is still beating at a steady pace, my breath is calm, I’m not sweating. This is what it feels like to say something you truly mean to someone you truly love with every fiber of your being. 

Scott’s inhale pulls me in and I bury myself into his arms. He presses into me instinctively, and in this moment, nothing has really changed at all.

So quickly, hugging turned to kissing in the dark. Even though this is Scott, this is a whole new experience. I knew Scott had many different sides, and I knew I would see them all eventually, but this is a side that I was craving and didn’t know. This side of Scott had passion. More than just what is seen on the ice. The kind of passion that burns through his skin. The kind that pulls you in without any contact. The kind that makes you feel things you never thought you could feel. This is the Scott that is in my dreams. And I never thought that I would so quickly be living in it. 

The passion continues when I feel his hand slip under my shirt, and I moan. This Scott gives me the drive to jump up and wrap my legs around his waist, wanting every bit of me to belong to him. To prove that I’m all his, I let my mouth create a map along his jaw and collarbone, letting my teeth mark the spot on his shoulder. 

It’s a mystery as to how we made it to the bedroom and how long it took to get there. All I know now is he has me pinned to the mattress and I do what I feel is right. As were kissing and I pull back for air, I let my lips touch his ear and whisper his name. I move my hand to around his neck and I feel the goosebumps cover the surface of his skin. 

This is better than any dream I’ve ever had. I never want to wake up so I let him continue, giving him permission through moans and mentions of his name as he slides his hand down farther and farther. As his fingers move around me, our clothes get shrugged off without another word and he is kissing every inch of my skin that he could find. I still don’t know if I’m dreaming or not. I let my fingers move up into his hair as his lips continue to graze my skin. The farther down he goes, the harder I tug, hoping that cues him to keep me in this dream. 

There is no time to think when I finally feel him enter me. All I hear is the bang of fireworks in my head, and I feel like a changed woman. I don’t need to know how many girls Scott has been with in the past because right now in this perfect moment, it doesn’t matter to me because I feel like the only one. 

I let my eyes flutter shut, enjoying the pleasure that I feel. My back arches and I feel it getting close so I grab the sheets and make a tight fist, preparing my body for the experience that is about to happen. I’m not thinking about the fact that this will all be over in a day, and he’ll probably move on. 

In this moment, here and now, he is mine and I am all his. 

10

Day twenty-six. It’s been twenty-six days since my surgery. It’s been twenty-seven since I’ve seen or heard from Scott. I can’t help but feel the need to check my phone every five minutes. I know that I should call him, but I figured he would call me. I don’t get why I always have to be the one to make the first move. 

Every day has been the same. I wake up from my less than mediocre sleep, go to physio therapy for a couple hours in the morning, get a massage, do some more strengthening exercises, hope Scott will call… same old, same old. 

I don’t know why I expect anything different. He didn’t call me after my surgery so why would he call now? 

I’ve been hearing from Meryl that Scott is miserable. He practices with broomsticks and sandbags and calls them “replacement Tessa.” I’d love to be out there with him right now. There isn’t anything I’ve wanted more. Well except maybe wanting him to I don’t know, call?

I’ve been watching videos from competitions to keep myself motivated to come back. I can’t believe he hasn’t called or texted at all. I feel like I’m forgetting what he looks and sounds like with each passing day.

I bury my head in my hands. I can’t believe I’m letting it bother me this much. I can’t believe I miss him... this much.

Well, you haven’t called or texted him either.

Sometimes I hate my voice of reason. This is one of those moments because he is supposed to phone me, to check in on me, not for me to check in on him. I know he’s training, and he knows that I’m at home. I wish he would come visit me. That would be nice. 

Then there are times where I can look past my voice of reason and say fuck it. This is one of them. I picked up my phone and out of the spur of the moment decision, I called Scott. 

It rang and rang and rang until I hit his voicemail. So that’s what he sounds like. He didn’t answer. I don’t know why I expected him to answer. I put my phone down, convinced myself that I tried and attempted to get out of bed. 

The pain that I feel swelling in my chest and in my throat is suddenly a lot worse than what I feel in my legs.


	3. part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part three of the original chapters took me on an emotional ride

11  
Being cooped up in my house and doctors offices and physio rooms for the last three months has been overly uninspiring. I spent most of that time allowing my thoughts to be consumed with what my reunion with Scott would look like. I’ve only been able to picture it one of two ways. One: he cries when he sees me and apologizes for being a distant asshole and it’s beautiful and lovely and we kiss and make up and he says something like how he never wants to live without me again. Two: he is unphased by his actions and says something like ‘it’s good to have you back now let’s get to work’ and then we retreat back to our awkward silences that we haven’t shared in years. It’s kind of relieving to me that neither of these situations happened. 

The five of us are seated around the dinner table in my parents dining room. Scott brought Jessica, his new side piece and she seems to be hitting it off with my parents. I’m fuming. I continue to pick at my green beans, not really eating them, but not not eating them. 

“Jess” I hear Scott’s voice from across the table. Or did he say Tess? 

“Yes?” We both respond to him in unison and I look up to see the cringe creep on Scott’s face, more or less directed at me.

“Sorry. Jess. Jessica” he clarifies, and clears his throat. “Can you please pass the potatoes?” 

Wow, I suddenly am super embarrassed and don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t think I ever wanted to be in this position.

“Sure thing, babe” she says as she hands him the bowl. That’s quite a quick progression in their relationship, using pet names and such. I realize that I’m staring at the two of them when Scott obviously attempts to dodge my gaze. I shake my head and bring my gaze down to my lap. 

My mom starts doing the thing she does where she apologizes for something that isn’t her fault. “I’m sorry, Scott. I thought you were still in Michigan when we planned this dinner. I wouldn’t have made you and Jessica drive all the way here if we’d known!” Now I can see this being spun on me. 

My dad speaks up. “We thought about having a bigger dinner party in Canton, but Tessa says she really just wanted to have it at home, with you of course.” If I thought I was embarrassed before… 

I really did want to have a dinner party, but I wanted the most important people there so I figured London was easier. Scott and I come home all the time. My parents don’t make the trek to Michigan quite as often. 

“I was just visiting Jessica for the weekend” Scott starts. Of course, you had to visit Jessica. Jessica, Jessica, everything is about Jessica. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world” he adds and I feel myself smile a little. I hear his voice get small. “My car broke down so… she’s my unofficial chauffeur for now” he says, forcing a laugh, trying to bring the conversation up. “Hopefully not for long.” 

“As long as you help pay for gas” Jessica adds, throwing in an unnecessary wink. I wouldn’t make him pay for gas. It’s just a nice thing to do to help someone out. I don’t think I like Jessica. 

“Now when did this…start?” My dad adds, pointing his fork at them. Dad, no, stop. What are you doing? I can feel myself cringing uncomfortably, shifting in my chair. 

Scott looks at Jessica for reassurance on his answer. “It was only a couple months ago, I think…”

“Feels like longer!” Jessica sighs with fake satisfaction. I know it’s fake, I’ve been practicing a lot lately. “We’ve done so much in such a short amount of time…” Now she’s smiling like an idiot. Great. I can’t deal with this anymore.

“Excuse me” I interrupted quickly, pushing myself out from the table and going to the rest room. I can feel Scott’s gaze on my back as I walk down the hallway. If Scott is the same as he was 3 months ago, he’s going to get up and follow me. I really hope he doesn’t. I quickly turned the light on and shut the door, making sure it was locked. I can hear my mom making some sort of excuse on my behalf. Something about my pain meds. I suppose that makes sense, but that is not the case. The bouquet of white roses I had intended on giving Scott lay on the vanity in the bathroom. I sat on the ledge of the bathtub, watching the roses stare back at me. What to do with them. 

It’s dark when we pull into the driveway. I almost fell asleep on the way home from the grocery store. These pain meds are doing a doozy on me. My gaze is drawn to the headlights of another vehicle that is the only light in plain sight. I don’t recognize the car, but they’re in front of my house so it must be Scott. I see him getting out of the car and out of nerves, I let my hands retreat down to the bunch of roses in my hands. He looks good, and the girl he is with looks good too. I’m playing with one of the petals, but gently so I don’t wreck them. We pull up and I tuck the roses under my arm, hunkering down and going as quickly a possible to the house. I can’t help but look back before I climb up the few stairs of my front porch and I see his dark eyes smiling at me, so I smile back. 

I missed him so much, my heart begins to pound uncontrollably. I don’t know if I can do this. 

I picked up the bunch of roses, contemplating where they will be most appreciated. As tears well up in my eyes, I consider the fact that it probably isn’t in best practice to hand Scott roses in front of his girlfriend. I find a better use for them in the garbage. To think I put in all of the work, decorating the tag with his name, snowflakes, and skates, the only thing that will appreciate them is the environment. 

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, and I feel like it might be my mom or dad to come check on me so I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes and emerge from the bathroom, letting them know that I’m fine. I jumped back a little when it was Scott who was standing in front of the bathroom door. 

Time stops when I look into his eyes, at least that feeling hasn’t changed. But I can’t bring myself to show any emotion. I’m just so exhausted and honestly, I really want him to leave. With this feeling overpowering the rest, I feel myself scowl, before I quickly suppress it to the bottom of my stomach. Scott looks worried. Worried for me, worried for us. Just uneasy overall. Before I say anything, I nod curtly and brush past him, allowing him entrance into the bathroom, forgetting about the roses that I had tossed in the garbage. 

I go back to sit at the table, silently hoping and praying that he doesn’t say anything when he comes back. 

My thoughts are interrupted by my mom’s voice. “You okay, honey?” 

I pick my head up, shake it a little bit and give her a reassuring nod. “Those pain meds are unpredictable some days.” I wish I could play the medication card on every emotion I was feeling. 

 

12

We arrived at the party, it was just me and Scott. He was the one who convinced me this would be a historical night in Canadian sport history. I agreed to go, only cause he said he would look out for me and he wanted me to enjoy myself. 

“The biggest night of our lives is after we win the Olympics” I correct him, followed by an eye roll for emphasis. If it was going to be as big as he said it was, then I’m going to dress for the occasion. A short black spaghetti strap dress, with a plain black pair of 6 inch heels. My legs would be mad at me later. But so worth it for Scott’s reaction plastered on his face.

“Damn, Virtch, we all know what you’re after tonight” he told me, trying to take his eyes off me, but failing. 

I shot a smirk until I came up with my comeback. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who’s allowed to get some of that” as I shoot him a big smile and end the conversation. 

But then Jessica, always Jessica. She showed up and that was that. I wasn’t going to let that ruin my time so I told Scott I would be right back and got lost in the crowd of people, looking for anyone that I knew. Is this how it was going to be from now on? Jessica always pushing Scott in a different direction? Because I’m over it. 

I have no idea where I am. I’m in a bathroom, I think at someone’s house, the Canada house, but I’m keeled over the toilet, puking my guts out. The blaring music of the party is just all muffled background noise. I knew I never should have come to this party. My legs fucking hurt. 

My puking is interrupted when I hear the knock on the door and his voice halts the muffled sound of the music. “Tessa?” I heard the door open immediately after.

Not now, Scott. “Don’t” I warn him as I peel my finger away from where it rests on the toilet and hold it up to him. He didn’t get the message and closed the door behind him, leaving us alone in the bathroom. I can’t get anything more out before I dip my head back over the toilet and continue to spew the alcohol that didn’t agree with me. 

“Kiddo,” I hear the softness in his voice come out as he holds my hair out of my face for me. Thanks. “And you call yourself a Canadian?” he adds. Moment ruined, Moir. 

“Fuck off” I say between heaves into the toilet. Once I’m done, I prop myself up with my elbow, and shoot him a death glare.

“Fucking hell, Tess” he says as he grabs me a piece of toilet paper, attempting to wipe my mouth. “Take it easy” he says softly. “I’ll take you home after this” he adds as he gently runs his fingers through my hair, combing through the knots. These are moments where he makes it really hard to be mad at him. Sounds like one of our drunken escapades back in Canton. 

I want him to take me home, but when we get there, I want him to stay. I want him to curl up to me all night, and not leave me again. The softness in my eyes turns hard as I think about how I can’t let him take me home. 

“You’re not taking me home” I tell him coldly, as I took over wiping the mix of lipstick and puke off from around my mouth. 

“Tess” I can tell that one hurt him by how he responds. He is not allowed to call me that right now. Not when I so easily mix it up with Jess. 

“Don’t call me that” I say as his hand breaks from my back when I stand up. I shot him a glare hoping he would get the message to leave me alone. “Go back to the party, Scott. I’m sure your girlfriend misses you.” That was meant to be as viscous as it sounded. 

I can see him get angry. The thing where he clenches his jaw and his nose wrinkles and he balls his fist by his side. “Are you really trying to pick a fight right now?” I‘m not doing this here or now, so I go to open the door, before he catches hold of my wrist. “Can your hissy fit wait til after this is over?” Hissy fit? Really, Scott? I feel myself matching his level of anger, my wrist pulsing under his grasp. “News flash, we kind of have to act like we’re in love for four and a half minutes in front of a billion people tomorrow? So if you can at least try not to make everything about this harder than it already needs to be-“and with that I snatch my arm out of his grasp. He is the one making this hard. 

The death glare returns, and if I didn’t have any self control, I would punch this asshole in the face right here, right now. But I remembered we have to act like were in love. A black eye wouldn’t convey love. I sigh deeply, contemplating what to say as I look into his eyes.  
I let it go and walked past him to the doorway of the bathroom. The blast of the music hit me like a wall and I feel myself needing to say one thing. 

“That’s never something I worry about” I tell him before I can the party and he a handsome looking blonde guy across the room. I went for it, throwing my arms around his neck, planting a sloppy drunken kiss that I won’t remember right on his mouth. 

Again, I can feel Scott watching me from the bathroom where I left him. 

 

13

It would take a real dummy to know that I’m not okay. Obviously, I’m not okay. I just stopped in the middle of a program, grasping my legs, hoping that the firmness of my fingers would divert some of the pain to my skin. 

He held my hand and rubbed my back all the way off the ice. I appreciated the support, but it feels all just for show. As soon as were out of sight from cameras, I forcefully drop his hand out of mine and walk in front of him towards my dressing room. 

“Are you okay?” I hear him ask from behind me.

Of course not, Scott. Are you stupid?

I know he’s following me, and I’m not going to fight now. He knows that the dressing room is a place for me and me only, so he wouldn’t dare follow me all the way in. I walk into the empty dressing room and hear the door shut behind me so I go over to my bag across the room. Before I could get there, I hear the squeak of the door flinging open behind me and I’m honestly shocked he followed me all the way in. I shoot him an angry look as he grabs my arm in a defiant act to show me that he wants to know what is going on. He dragged me to stand in front of him.

I’ve always left my injury separate and detached from our partnership. Scott made it very clear when he ignored me for three months that he didn’t want to be apart of it. 

“I asked you, are you okay?” His voice his forceful as his grip matches on my wrist. It hurts a little bit and I want to get my skates off so I try to squirm out of his hold. 

“What answer is going to make you go away?” I spit back at him.

“This has to stop” he growled at me, and I can see him clench his teeth. “We need to talk” he says as he forcefully kicks his leg out to shut the door. “We’ve needed to talk for the past two years but I guess we’re really not so great at that.” Well no shit. “But we’re talking. Right now.” 

Fine. If he wants to talk so bad, he can talk. I don’t have anything to say to him. I make it clear through the look in my eyes that I’m going to stay silent. 

“I thought… that winning the gold in Vancouver would fix all of this. Obviously, I was wrong, because you still act like I’m stabbing you in the back every time I do anything.” You are stabbing me in the back, Scott. You put the knife there and never took it out. “What happened to you?” he says as his voice breaks and I keep my eyes cold and unreadable. “I thought we were a team. Everything I do is for us. Don’t you trust me anymore?” He sounds exasperated and so he should.

I’m not giving into my own game so quickly. He wanted to talk, he should talk. 

“Don’t play stupid” he hisses and I can tell he’s lost patience for my game.

Stupid… Me? Are you serious right now? “I’m playing stupid?” I can feel my glare focus in in the end of his nose. I whip my hand out of his grip and puff my chest out slightly as a self defense strategy. The self defense doesn’t quite work when I can feel hot tears glide down my wind burnt cheeks. This feels oddly like the time when I was ten and that was the last time Scott had seen me cry. Were back in that place. How did we get here? I clench my fists as I try to find words that are sufficient enough to counteract the naivety in his last comment. “I went through the worst two years of my life. I was alone in that hospital room, day in, day out, and you never called, you never checked in to see if I was still breathing. But that was okay, because I forgave you, because I loved you—I don’t lie about those kinds of things.” I let my feelings go. I feel my eyes shut a bit as I inhale a shaky breath. I hope he feels the glare I’m giving him right in his heart so he knows even a little bit, the feeling he left me with. Do I dare say what I’m thinking? Yup.

“And when I finally get back, I find that it’s taken you two seconds to move onto someone more convenient, and I think, oh, well, that’s probably why he hasn’t been calling. Because he’s busy sleeping with other girls.”

“I-“ no no, my turn still. 

“And you didn’t even know” I continue over him, bringing my sleeve up to wipe my cheek. I know that my makeup is probably in horrendous display right now, and I don’t care. “I was in pain every waking moment, but good teammates don’t complain about that, and good teammates don’t complain about how her partner goes to parties with his girlfriend every single night during the Olympics, while she couldn’t even walk down a flight of stairs to the cafeteria.” 

“Tess-“

“So I just sucked it up, because that’s what I’m good at, apparently” I bring my voice back down from yelling and crying and now it is just hoarse. I’ve already spilt all the rage I have but somehow it keeps finding it’s way to the surface. I let my voice back down. “I sucked it up this entire season when, again, I was alone in a hospital room, and I’m in pain everyday, but somehow I can’t suck it up anymore, so I’ve absolutely humiliated myself in front of the entire world.” With that, I let out another sob, and find it appropriate to plop down on the love seat that was waiting behind me. I bent over, really needing to take my skates off now, so I yank at the laces on one. I continue with my rant. “And all the while, the one person who should know what I’m feeling and what I’m going through has no idea.” I finally get through and yank my left skate off, throwing it down at his foot. “Because after this, he’s probably going to leave and have a lovely night with his girlfriend, while I go and lie in bed for the next three days, trying to undo the cramps in my leg that I’ve probably ruined forever thanks to this sport, and trying to remember why I didn’t just throw in the towel and fucking retire.” I get the other boot off and repeat throwing it at him. “So to answer your question, no, I am not okay, and I haven’t been okay for a very long time, and if you”—the word drips with venom— “had taken any time out of your own, selfish life to even see me, or even ask me how I am, how I really am, you wouldn’t even need to ask if I’m okay.”

That was exhausting. All of my energy left my body with one last heavy sigh and I curl my legs up under me on the love seat. I cover my eyes, not wanting to look at him. “That’s all” I mumble, giving myself an end as well. 

I didn’t watch him close the gap between us but I feel him getting closer. Closer than he has been in years. I know he’s in front of me, so I peer at him over top of my arm and I rest my chin down. I can see tears well in his eyes and I’m scared for what is going to come next.  
He put his hand on my shoulder, gently as if I would break. His hand is warm against my cold skin and I’m done resisting his touch. I need him back. 

He continued to move his hand around me and pulled me into an embrace, soft as if I would crumble under him. I felt like I would if he grasped any harder. He moved up to sit next to me on the love seat, still holding me. I let my head move into his shoulder. “I’m sorry” I hear him whisper into my hair as he presses a kiss to my temple. Moving his way down to press one to my cheek, and my nose, and my eyelids as I let them flutter shut under the gentle touch of his soft lips. 

I feel how sorry he is with every kiss he leaves on my skin. I feel myself breaking the walls that I put up to protect myself from him. I feel them tumble with each kiss and I fall farther into him. “I’m sorry, Tessa” he repeats after every kiss. “You’re the most important person in my life.” “I’d never do anything to hurt you. Please believe me” he says softly as he pulls away from our embrace and rubs my shoulders before he got up started to walk away. 

I believe him. For the first time in a long time, I believe him. 

I grabbed his arm before he got out of my reach and stood up to meet him. I pulled him into a deep, sincere kiss, smack dab on the lips. I don’t hesitate as I feel my lips tremble and the mix of Scott and my tears touches my tongue. He kisses me back, and nothing has ever felt more wrong and more right. The boy who successfully broke me, is starting to successfully put me back together. 

 

14

The drive from Canton to Ann Arbor is twenty-five minutes, and leave it up to Scott to get pulled over within those twenty-five minutes.

I’m silently laughing from the passenger seat as he looks less than pleased to hand his licence and registration over to the cop. He shoots me an unimpressed look and I lean my head on the window, not letting my amusement leave my face as I continue to look at him.  
“I see which side you’re on, Virtch” he comments. “You can walk the rest of the way.” As if he would make me walk. So, I teased and started to open the passenger door, but the joke is ruined when the cop clears his throat and hands Scott the ticket. “Sir, have a good night” the cop states.

Scott starts the car again, and lets out a perplexed sigh. “Jesus, I didn’t deserve that.”  
“Oh yes you did” I told him, as I don’t give him a chance to defend his poor driving.  
“And I’m gonna do it again so we can make it to the movie on time” he adds as I smirk at his comment. It’s a warm night in Michigan, so I roll down the window to let the cool air fill my hair. I close my eyes and lean into the back of the seat, feeling not but contempt in this moment. 

The summer lull between seasons is one of my favorite times. Not that I don’t enjoy skating, but I’m always completely spent by the end of the competitive season, and the last one—as you may know—was particularly brutal. There’s nothing I look forward to more than sitting around and doing nothing for a solid month. But our break’s been cut short this year, as it’d been the year before. We have a schedule jam-packed with shows and tours, which I’m so excited about, but I know Scott isn’t overly keen on that many shows. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I chose to do ballet instead, and gone down a different path in life. I wonder if I would have been happier, or more successful. Maybe I would have been miserable. Who knows. 

I find myself staring out the window, my chin cupped in my hand. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me, and then he quickly turned his head back to the road. 

I shift in my seat. You. Us. All of this. That’s what I’m thinking about.

He looks at me again and I smile softly. “Nothing at all” I reply simply as the words flow out and into the wind. 

Scott tries to set up our little picnic blanket on the grass, slightly damp from the dew collecting in the evening chill. I take one end as he takes the other, making it as flat as possible. The light of the giant outdoor screen flickers onto our faces. Scott attempts to swat away the bugs circling around our heads. I’m humming along to the music as I smooth out the fleece under my legs and pulls out the little bag of dried cherries from my purse. We’re twenty minutes late, but I’ve already seen this movie a thousand times, like I’ve done with every other Audrey Hepburn movie. I think I’m most upset about the fact that our picnic was shorted by 20 minutes. I can tell Scott is lost by the movie. He’s the kind of person that has to see it from the beginning to understand, so I scoot in closer to tell him it’s okay without saying anything at all. 

I feel his arm slide around my waist and he pulls me in closer. I follow his lead and lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. I can’t help but shake the feeling that my head fits so perfectly in the crook. He has the perfect amount of cologne on mixed with the scent of freshly washed skin. It’s a scent I will never tire of. 

“‘S wonderful,” Fred Astaire says.

“‘S wonderful,” Audrey Hepburn agrees.

And it really is.

It’s two in the morning when we finally make it back to Canton and I’m not tired at all. We pull up to my house and Scott gets out to walk me to the door, like he always does. 

“That was fun” I tell him as I unlock the door, making sure my voice isn’t too loud because I realize how late it is. 

He smiles at me at places a kiss on my forehead which means goodbye for now. “Sleep tight now, princess” he tells me as he walks down the porch steps. Princess. 

“Wait” I call out to him and my fingers brush the sleeve of his hoodie. I don’t want to leave it like this. 

“Yeah?” he responds as if he doesn’t know what I’m about to ask. 

I bit my lip and I meet my gaze with his. “It’s late” I hesitate. Maybe I should just forget about it. “If you want to crash here, you can” I finish. That was the right thing to do. “Just so you don’t have to drive all the way back to your place. You know. Whichever you want to do” I add. 

I feel my cheeks flush red as he gives me a wide grin. I’ll take that as a yes. I shake my head and slip away into the darkness of my house, leaving the door open for Scott to follow.  
I pulled out a couple of pillows and blankets from storage boxes and tossed them on the couch. It’s only customary for a guest (Scott) to sleep on the couch, considering the amount of times he used it after having a few to many drinks. 

“Thanks, good night, Tess.” He says from across the room. I smile and say “night” before I disappear into the bathroom to do my nightly routine. I ran the water and splashed it in my face. Through each splash, I thought about it. Maybe I should just let him sleep in my bed. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. He would be more comfortable, I would be warmer. I finish up in the bathroom and go into my bedroom to change into pajamas. I sit on the edge of the bed, contemplating what to do next.

I made up my mind. I shut the light off in my room and shuffle down the hallway back towards the living room. I stood in front of the couch where Scott is laying. He must’ve heard me coming cause one of his eyes opened slightly. 

“Mm” he moans as he reaches out for my arm. I can’t force him to get up and move now.

“Hi” I whisper. I gently lift the covers up, tearing the warmth from his body but quickly replace it when I press my body up against his and pull the blanket back up to my chin. I’m surprised he didn’t comment about how this wasn’t like me to do, but maybe he was already sleeping. Leave it to Scott to make a comment about anything. He’s not fully asleep because I feel his arm wrap around my waist and the curves of his almost naked body mold into mine. 

“Thank you” I try to say, but it’s muffled into my sleeve. 

“Hmm?”

“Thank you” I repeat, louder this time. 

Suddenly, I’m more tired than I thought and I drift off into sleep, the rhythm of his heart keeping me grounded. 

 

15

 

I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and it doesn’t help that it’s the night before the free dance at worlds. At least they’re in London so I can ‘sleep’ in my own bed. I’ve been tossing and turning for the last couple hours and I finally gave up. I got up and avoided the stairs that are notorious for squeaking on my way down. 

Every time I skip a stair, it reminds me of the times back when we were kids and Scott would come over and we would play hide and seek. He hadn’t quite caught onto the squeaky stair yet so he would step on it and Jordan and I always knew where he hid. We would ambush him quietly at first, then making a big scene of tackling him onto the carpet. He would try to tickle me and I had no choice but to kick him sometimes. 

I grab my coat from the rack, and I hear a small squeak. He still doesn’t remember which one. “Scott?” I whisper back towards the stairs. 

“Hey kiddo” he whispers back and I’m relieved to know it’s him. 

I continued to put my coat on. “You’re up early” I attempt to inquire. 

“Couldn’t sleep” he states simply as he pulls me into a hug. 

“Oh, same” I reassure him and sigh into his neck. “I was going to clear my head. Come with me” I send the muffled invite into his shirt. 

He pulls away and smiles, silently grabbing his coat and scarf. We nod in agreement that were ready and sneak out into the early winter morning. 

“Glad to see London hasn’t changed” I grunt into the collar of my coat, trying to protect my face from the blistering early morning wind. I let my hand slip into his coat pocket, our fingers naturally interlacing. He doesn’t speak of my gesture, we just continue to hold hands. 

We walk silently through the empty streets of the city that is still sleeping. The only noise to be heard is the whistle and moan of the cold wind. We try to talk a little bit. My lips freeze before I can form a full and coherent thought most of the time. I’m hanging onto the warmth in Scott’s pocket for dear life.

With no route in mind, we find ourselves come up to a very familiar cul-de-sac with a very familiar building lining the edge. 

“Oh” I say to myself, realising where we are. The church, covered in snow and a dark shadow against the night sky, stands in the same place as it’d always been. The familiar gravel path crunch underneath our boots as we head up the winding road to the cul-de-sac.

I don’t know what Scott is thinking when he sees the church but I feel a weird sensation that makes me feel like I’m ten years old again. I’m in the car with my dad, and we’re pulling up to the church where a shivering Scott insists on waiting on the bench for us to get there. 

“We’re back” I whisper as we silently agree to move closer to the benches out front. I’m mostly directing my comment at the church, but if Scott hears it, that is a bonus. 

We slow our pace in front of the church door and let go of Scott’s hand and take a seat on one of the benches. Scott follows closely, sitting next to me as he continues to put his arm around my shoulders. We both sit and stare blankly out into the cul-de-sac. We must’ve been walking for a while because I can see the faintest light creep over the hill in the distance. The sun is rising. 

I glance up at Scott to see if I can see what he’s thinking. I feel us start to breathe together, so I comfortably begin. “It’s so strange, isn’t it?” 

I hear his hesitation, followed by a “yes.” 

I don’t know what to say next. Scott fills the silence. “Aw, Tess” he says as he pulls my hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top. “So sentimental” he adds. 

I let out a small chuckle at his reaction. “Am I really?” I sigh, wondering if it’s that obvious. I shake my head. “I guess I am.”

“Your way too sentimental for your own good” he comments as he takes my hand and puts it back into his pocket, weaving his fingers in between mine. “Think about it like this” he continues and I anticipate his theory. “Two crazy kids with one crazy dream. It all started here. We’re back now, and we have our dream.” 

I smile up at him, warmth on my lips but sadness in my eyes. “I think I’ve finally come to terms with that. Having achieved the childhood dream. And that was three years ago.” I look up at the sky, directing my thoughts to anything or anyone that is listening. “And I wonder to myself sometimes… is that it? For me? Is this it? What am I going to do after Sochi?” I let out a sigh, but another thought comes to me. “I can’t seem to figure anything out anymore. Can you even have a new dream in your mid- twenties?” 

Scott is quick to respond. “Of course you can. Outside of skating, yeah” he reassures me, silently thanking me for opening up. I’m not one to just let everything out, but the moment seemed right, and I trust Scott, so I’m okay. He continues. “I mean… I’ve always wanted to… do the whole family thing. At some point. You know? Get married. Have some ankle-biters. You know.” He sounds uncertain and coughs uncomfortably. We don’t talk about our relationships with each other. It’s just an unspoken rule, so I find myself feeling closer to Scott, but further at the same time.

“Hmm” is all I can make out. I have to think about how I say this next part respectfully. “Cassandra?” I ask quietly. 

“Well, we haven’t been dating for that long” he says back quickly, and defensively. “But I mean, I dunno… Maybe?” Is it selfish that I’m happy he isn’t sure he sees a future with her? “It’s a nice thought sometimes, settling down after all this craziness is over” he finishes and I see him cringe. It’s a little uncomfortable now. 

I pulled my knees up on the bench to rest my chin. “Right.”

“You have time” he says honestly with a squeeze of my hand. 

I nod, and let the silence linger. I feel myself slipping out of the conversation. It’s not a topic I’m comfortable discussing and I don’t know how to feel about Scott’s revelation. 

I do my best to redirect the conversation out of the awkwardness it has fallen into. “Doesn’t it still feel like you’re waiting for someone to come pick you up?” I murmur and bring my gaze back to the bareness of the cul-de-sac. 

“Yeah. But I don’t know where we’d go if they did” he says. 

I don’t know if I know the answer to that either.


	4. Chapter 4

16

I was hesitant at first to tell Scott that I received an email from a bridal magazine the other day asking if we wanted to do a photoshoot for them. I figured the best way to do so would be over dinner and out in public so his reaction is somewhat tame. 

We're having a great time splitting a bottle and I'm on my third glass when I bring it up. 

"So I got an email a couple days ago..." I begin, attempting to keep him intrigued, until he inevitably is not. 

"You did, did you?" his snarky tone comes out as he straightens himself out in his chair. 

"A bridal photoshoot. What do you think?" I realize that I worded this request in an odd way, but I can easily blame it on the wine. 

"With you?" he retorts.

"Yes, like I'm the bride and you're the groom"

"Let's talk about this when we get home" he tries to change the conversation. 

"No, Scott, I'm in the zone, just listen. Please?" I practically beg him. I ramble on about the benefits this photoshoot could have on our partnership and other stuff that I cannot recall anymore. 

"You're drunk" he spits back at me. While I may be a bit buzzed, I refuse to admit that I am drunk. And with that, he took my wine glass away, moving it in between his chest and his plate on the table. 

"No, I'm serious" I tell him convincingly and reach over our food for my drink. "I might be a _little_ buzzed but I'm not kidding." 

"You're drunk" he states firmly again. 

I let the topic of conversation slip, sensing Scott needs more convincing, and now is not the time to keep pushing. We move on for the rest of dinner before I insist on paying the bill this time.

"You really want this photoshoot, huh" he comments as I sign the bottom of the receipt and I can feel him staring at me, begging for a genuine answer as to why this is so important. 

"It'll get them talking about us again" I say as I set the pen down, slip my card back into my wallet and the only thing that's heard is the snap of it shutting so I decide to continue. "If I see another article about how Meryl and Charlie are going to win the Olympics I'm going to _personally_ kick down Marina's door-" 

"You think she's in on it?" Scott cuts me off, and I'm thankful he did, so I don't say anything I'll regret later. I feel myself getting hot so I remove my cardigan and place it on the back of the chair. It's the wine, mostly. 

"We're on our own. We have to pick our music tomorrow. We've been putting it off for way too long." And frankly, it's starting to stress me out. "Do you know what Meryl and Charlie are doing?" I genuinely ask him. 

"Something they've hidden from us from like, three years ago" Scott replies, and I can't tell if he's serious or not. I sigh and tip my head down and mutter "well shit" under my breath. 

"Don't worry. We'll get up bright and early tomorrow, and go to the rink, and then do what we've always done" he reassures me before I let myself get too worked up. We sit in silence for a minute, neither of us wanting to make the first move. That's always been the case, and after this long, you think we would've figured that out by now. 

Then another slightly tipsy thought enters my head. Maybe it's genius because of my state, or maybe because it's actually a good idea, so I let it out. "Hey, how do you feel about a reality show?" He furrows his brow, and the thought that maybe it was just a good intoxicated idea prevails. 

"Did you just hear what I said?" an edge of irritation in his question. 

"Well, if we start shooting it now, we could have it on air right when the Olympics roll around at the end of the year" I try to reason with him. 

He wastes no time responding. "We should really be focusing on training." 

I let out a huff, starting to get annoyed that he's shot down every one of my ideas thus far. "It's just a thought. It'd be about skating and training for Sochi, of course. Nothing personal. It's important publicity." I tell him coldly and defensively. 

Now I can tell he's frustrated too. "Tess. Think about what you're saying. Do you really want to make our careers relevant by selling out our relationship?" 

I get what he's trying to say, but at the same time I don't. Our 'relationship' is what makes us who we are, essentially, but it's not a 'relationship', relationship. I tilt my chin up with defiance and ask "what relationship?" 

His eyebrow furrows further than it did before, and I'm reluctant to mention that if he keeps frowning, the lines on his forehead will be permanent. 

"The fake one, obviously" he fire's back sharply. Ouch, that one stung a little. I can tell people are glancing over at us from other tables, considering we both went from zero to sixty in no time. 

"Then you have nothing to worry about" I snap back just as quickly. And with that, I immediately regret covering the whole tab. 

"I _have_ a girlfriend you know" he adds. Good for you? I don't care? But I do...?

"Congratulations" I tell him dryly. "Now you can have a real relationship _and_ the fake one to boot." Get me the hell out of here, this is getting ridiculous. 

"Forgive me if I don't want to give her the wrong idea by pretending to marry some other chick." Does he ever quit? Am I really just some other chick. Wow. 

I'm still trying to comprehend his comment. "Some other chick" I breathe as my shoulders sink and I nod my head, accepting what I was just referred to as. 

"You know what I mean" he snaps, but I can tell he's done arguing because if we wasn't he would say some other shitty back handed remark. I'm glad because I hate fighting with Scott. It's completely draining. "Let's go" he finishes. 

I've already accepted the fact that Scott is going to crash on my couch tonight because my apartment is closer than his and usually he'll just walk from there, but he's drunk I think and that wouldn't be very kind of me to expect him to do that. So when he tells the taxi driver my address, I relax into the seat and tilt my head away from Scott. I can't describe the feeling, but something in me fires up as we fight and I desire him more than I have before. If I looked at him, I would crumble and that would be it. I do everything in my power to keep my gaze away from him, even though I can sense him occasionally glancing over at me. He covers the ride of the taxi, telling me it's only fair because I picked up the dinner. 

The walk to the front door seems overly long and very tense. I can feel that feeling I didn't want to creep in come back and suddenly I can't get the door behind us closed fast enough. I had to kiss him, and I did, as almost as if it's a plea and apology and it sounds like I'm desperate for his attention, but truth be told, I'm dying for it. I only notice he tastes like wine when he doesn't immediately reject my advance. His eyes flutter closed as I feel his eyelashes brush my cheeks because were _so_ close. When we pull back, he's looking me dead in the eyes and I force my glance anywhere but. The crease in his forehead, to the crook in his nose, down and over to memorize the immaculate bone structure of his jaw, back down to his lips. I feel as if I'm claiming my territory, and I hope he feels that too. 

"Did you hear anything I just said back there?" he whispers against my lips as his thumb rubs soft circles into my cheek. 

"Something about about being some other chick" I murmur, trying to relish in the feeling he leaves me with. I lean in and kiss him again. It was meant to be soft, but I can feel it divert away from that almost immediately. 

"i'm serious, Tess" he croaks quietly as he backs up, moving his hands to rest on my shoulders. I can tell he's putting a stop to whatever _this_ is. "We can't do the thing where we date other people and then fuck each other on the side. You're dating someone, I'm dating someone... so let's just date them and spend _our_ time together getting that gold medal, huh?" In all honestly, I don't give a shit about whatever nonsense he's spewing about dating other people. It doesn't feel that way, considering I don't even see said topic more than once every two weeks. 

"Come to bed with me, Scotty" one more desperate plea escapes me. " _Please_?" 

I'm starting to sound pathetic, begging and out of breath but it's a last ditch effort in my mind to keep him close. I look down at his hands and his fists are clenched so tight that they're turning pale. I can't tell if he's angry or frustrated or what but I just want him to look at me. He bites his lip and I can tell whatever he is going to say next, isn't going to be what I want to hear. 

"You're just drunk, and you need to go to bed, preferably by _yourself_. I'll see you tomorrow at the rink." It hurts. The thought that he's prepared to leave after this really hurts. I move my hands slowly onto his clenched fists, prying them open to intertwine our fingers. 

"I don't love him" I confess through whispers, continuing to let my eyes dart in any direction away from his. Its for sure the alcohol this time because I want to look at him. Maybe that way I could convince him to stay. He would see in my eyes that I need him here and that would be it. "I don't love him, you know?" I repeat. I let one hand release his as I move it slowly onto his hip, up the length of his back, and around the back of his neck. I feel him tense up a little bit under my touch, but it's quickly replaced by relaxation. "Scott..." I murmur his name as my lips take over his neck. "I know you feel the same way" I huff between kisses. 

"I-I" he stammers. "I mean, I love you" he says, but it's got the same tone that it does every other time he says it, and I didn't want to hear it that way. "You know that" he tries to assure me. I do know, but I wish I knew in a different way. 

I pulled away, still close enough that his puffs of breath are hot on my face and I'm sure he feels mine too. I stared into his eyes for what feels like the first time in a long time. Desperately, I _hope_ that he'll say it, but we enter a staring contest and I know there's nothing more to say. 

"Right. Forget it" he sighs and closes his eyes. He let go of my hand and headed straight for the door. The hallway light outside the apartment is bright and I feel my eyes squint as his figure is illuminated by it. "Goodnight, Tess. See you tomorrow." 

17

We're exhausted. 

Physically, I feel like I have to drag myself around. Mentally, I am not into this anymore, and emotionally? What emotions do I have left? I don't have a choice though. I have to be tougher now more than ever. I feel Scott holding onto my hand like it's his lifeline, willing me to give him some of my energy, but I don't have any left to share. We finish our media interviews, and head back to the Village, silently. I flop down in the back of the taxi as my head finds it's resting place on Scott's shoulder. I finally feel myself shut down, and it's long overdue. 

I can sense that Scott is buzzing about something, but I don't want to intrude on his thought process, because maybe, just maybe, it's something I don't want to know. The next thing I know is were back at the village and we're face to face with the tall apartment like structures in front of us. Scott is spaced out so I lead him up to my room for the time being. I want him to be there, but more than that, we need each other right now. He closes the door behind us and stands there for a minute. I let him as I go over to the and unzip my Canada jacket, for some reason, paying extra attention to it being folded perfectly. I look over at him and we exchange a glance. There's no words between us, but we both know. 

I turn away from Scott and quickly change out of my costume and into sweats and a t shirt, still with my makeup and hair done. It's a look for sure but I just don't care. This is the bitter (sweet) end to Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir. From here on out, we move on as Olympians, not Olympic champions. We are two Canadian kids, sitting on a hotel bed, facing each other but not really looking. Two regular people who are just so tired, and need a good night sleep, or a long nap if that's too much to ask. 

Our phones haven't stopped buzzing since we stepped off the ice. Text's and emails that are really no help, but only rub salt in the wound. _They totally screwed you over, that score is outrageous- Hey Honey are you doing alright, call me! - who's ass do I need to kick now? Let me know._

I usually would try to respond but instead I texted my mom back telling her I would call her after I got some sleep and shut my phone off. Scott was very quick to do the same. In this moment, I was looking forward to just being alone with Scott. He's the only other person who knows how I feel, and even though it's not the most amazing feeling, it's comforting having that. 

I moved closer and let my hands get wrapped up in his as he moved them to rest in his lap. We both close our eyes and all I focus on is the strength of his hands and the utter sense of protection I feel when mine are entwined in his. His thumb softly rubs back and forth against mine and I let out a soft sigh, feeling myself slowly escape the negative that has poisoned my mind. He's like my anchor that keeps me from floating away into that place that I don't want to be. 

I can't help but let a smile take over my face as Scott brings one of my hands up to his lips and tediously placed kisses on each knuckle, every so often letting his nose fall in as well. I let the feeling linger for a moment before I carefully pull my hand away. "You don't have to. Camera's are off, Scotty. You don't owe me any of _that_ " I tell him hoarsely, emphasis on that. 

He holds off for a quick moment before taking both of my hands between his and softly rubbing his fingers against them, as if to study every line, wrinkle, and groove. "But I want to" he says quietly, diverting his eyes down to our intertwined hands and my eyes look at the sight he is admiring. "Whatever happens tomorrow, win or lose. Silver or gold. Together" he tells me as he squeezes my hands. 

This is really hard. I want to believe him so bad, but I know that this feeling is temporary. All good things come to an end and this is just one of them. This is part of the reason why the Olympics are so emotional. You get no sleep, you have good days and bad days, this is the biggest competition of your life, and to top that all off, if you know it's your last, well... yeah. 

I shake my head slightly, trying to stop the tears from flowing. I turn away so he doesn't see, but it's Scott and he catches on real quick. "It's okay" I tell him. "When this is all over- when this is all finally done with, I'll give you your space. I won't get in your way anymore. I don't want any more of this." And with that, I may have confirmed the end of all of this. All the early morning training sessions, the biased judging, the scrutiny from coaches, the tender touches and stolen glances that only last on the ice, the roller coaster of emotions that come with it. All of it. 

"We should start getting used to it" I continue when he doesn't, and by it, I mean retirement. "Starting tomorrow, we act like normal, functional people, who don't need to fuck their dance partners to sort their issues out" I state as I force a smile as I let my eyes water up. "You should call Cassandra or something. Tell her we're doing great, and we'll kill it in the free dance tomorrow." The sting of my last remark hits me deep. I didn't realize the impact of those words until I spoke them. I don't regret it, but it still hurts. To make this less painful, I pat him on the knee and get up to move towards the living room. 

"Tessa" he calls out almost immediately after I get up and he catches my arm firmly. Before I know it, he has me wrapped in his arms. A hug that only Scott can give me. "Tomorrow isn't here yet" he says before pulling back slightly and now were kissing. _I'm all yours today. Tomorrow isn't here yet._ I would say it, but our tongues are dancing in his mouth and I'm studying a new topic of Scott. Each movement becomes a new lesson, and I find myself wanting to learn more and more. My breath hitches when I feel his warm fingers slide up my shirt and under my bra. After all this time, he still knows what I like the best, and adjusts his fingers to rub accordingly. 

The last time we had proper sex was a long time ago, and a memory we had both vowed to keep locked away somewhere that no one could find or open it. There are all of those times where we didn't have sex. Instead, it was replaced by this intricate dance, with no ice and no audience and no panel of judges, where thoughts get into our heads, and a little too much to drink can send them tumbling out. Where our lips connect and this spark lights inside of us, and we’re kissing and touching and breathing each other in until one of us says, “no, stop, this is wrong, we can’t”, and we struggle to untangle ourselves from each other. Hurt, confused, waiting for our bodies to catch up with our brains. 

The dance ends tonight, and the grand finale is the secrets that won't ever leave this room. The rustled sheets, the smell of Scott's cologne, the feeling of his abs under my fingertips, the whispers of sweet nothings that inevitably mean something, his dark brown eyes that spill more than words ever could, the feeling of him. Me and him, together, in this dance that is more intricate and delicate than any dance we have ever shared on ice. It hasn't been choreographed or rehearsed for hours on end or drilled into our heads, but somehow we both know exactly how it goes. 

And it's beautiful. 

We lie with each other after we finish, in a full and warm silence, wrapped in the darkness and the sheets in between us. I'm curled up in his arms with my side up against his, partially draped over him and my head pressed into his chest. I feel his heartbeat through his chest, slow and steady in perfect time. His fingers stroke the skin of my neck, along my shoulders and down my spine. I hum in content as my fingers draw shapes and letters on his chest, and finally, I feel happier than I have in years. 

 

18 

I'm not going to lie and say it's been all sunshine and rainbows finding something to do post Olympics. I may have seemed to everyone else that I had all of my ducks in a row, and for the most part I do. I'm working on my degree, I'm indulging in new business opportunities, and recently, I've gotten into tinder. That is one thing I had never pegged myself to do, but here I am. And it's fun. When I meet up with random guys at bars and they ask me what I do, I mention figure skating last. They don't inquire further, and I don't explain any more explicitly. It's weird not having Scott around all the time, and I guess part of the reason why I went to tinder is to see if I could fill the void that a partner would fill. It works. 

It's only temporary.

I see Scott quite often. We still skate. We do shows, events and sometimes we skate for fun. It's low commitment and low contact for the most part, but it's nothing like competing.

Scott on the other hand, very openly had no plan, and he is doing a good job of living up to that. He helps out his mom in Ilderton. He hosts master classes and keeps busy around the community, he's still dating Kaityln, and I think she's really good for him. At least she knows more about ice dancing then Cassandra. 

We’re sitting at the Toronto airport, soaking in the air con as the temperature rises to a ridiculous 30-something degrees. I love the heat, but only in the right context, like a sandy beach in Mexico or Hawaii. Somewhere where this type of heat actually belongs. 

Scott can't stop fidgeting with his boarding pass and passport, and I'm digging through my carryon for the first book I'm going to conquer on the flight to Edinburgh. 

"Well, _good_ " I say emphatically, but then hesitate before I continue. "Right?" 

"Yes, good" he responds, with little behind it. I nod in agreement. We both know we need to be okay with being retired in our mid-twenties. Which I guess is far from normal, but you can’t always have it all. Can you?

“Well you wouldn’t be able to take a luxury vacation in Scotland if you were still competing!” Kaitlyn chimes in, her voice dauntingly bright.

“ _Well, she’s your girlfriend_ ” I said when Scott had cautiously brought up the possibility of bringing Kaitlyn on the trip with us. “ _Why are you asking me for permission?_ ” And that was that.

I'm really doing my best to give Kaitlyn the benefit of the doubt. I want to be a good friend to her. I've told Scott that it's okay. “ _She’s nice_ ” I commented. “ _And if you’re happy, I’m happy, so if you want her in your life, then she’s totally welcomed in mine_.” And it's true, I'm happy if he's happy. 

It is hard for me, but I can imagine how hard it would be on Scott. Attempting to balance two women can be trying in the best of circumstances, so this I can only imagine is an impossible task. 

I put in my best effort by posting pictures on instagram of Kaitlyn and I and offer to help her hold a rifle properly in the ski shooting expedition we go on. We really have been getting along over the couple weeks we've been here, and it's really nice. I notice Scott distance himself from us when were doing well, and I'll have to thank him for that later, but then there's times when he's not there. The Scott I know isn't in there, and I keep wondering where he goes. 

Scott and I are scrunched together in the back of a dusty rickshaw, weaving dangerously through the streets of Beijing. We're hanging on for dear life, breathless and overwhelmed by the sights and smells of the great sense of adventure that travel brings. While I wish we were in a car, this is a cool change to the predictable. 

All of a sudden I'm comfortable again, falling back into a feeling of comfort that I haven't felt since Sochi. Maybe it's because it's just Scott and I, bodies pressed together, laughing and enjoying everything this moment has to give us without barriers. 

Our eyes lock. 

The driver drops us off at the bus terminal, where we board the smelliest, rustiest taxi that will apparently take us up to the Great Wall. We cram into this vehicle, we’re off.

Scott comments on how he hopes he doesn't get sick and that I better be prepared to move out of the way if his lunch makes a reappearance. It's gross, and I make a disgusted face to him, but then I remember a song I wanted to show him, hoping that it would take his mind off puking. I move in closer as I hand him a headphone and start the song. "Imagine skating to a program like that" I tell him. 

“Oh, you can’t make me go back to Marina even if you put a gun to my head.”

I laugh and shake my head. “ _Realistically_. We’d probably find somewhere else to go” I comment, folding my hands in my lap and looking thoughtful. I know who I'm thinking of, and I wonder if he thinks the same. 

"Realistically?" he repeats, doing that thing with his eyebrows. 

I bite my lip and decide to spill my thought. "Marie and Patch seem to be doing alright up in Montreal." And then it's silent. 

The taxi driver successfully breaks the silence by honking and aggressively yelling something in Chinese at a car that had cut him off. 

I continue with a loud inhale. "Scott?" 

"Mhm?"

"I'm unhappy" I tell him quietly, hoping no one else hears it but him. 

I hope more than anything he feels the same way. Otherwise I just placed a burden on him I couldn't live with. 

"Is this about getting silver in Sochi?" he asks me. 

It never was about silver. "No" I tell him sharply. "You know that." 

His head drops a little and we fall silent again. 

I'm trying to think of the best way to explain this and the most gentle way to break the silence. "I miss skating" I start and Scott leans back, knowing he's in for a full explanation now. "I miss competing. I miss creating. I miss the press and the cameras and the pressure and the medals and the stupid rink." Well that was shorter than I thought. My next thought is deep, so I inhale before I continue in a last ditch effort to collect all of my thoughts. " I miss you." He looks at me and blinks. I know he thinks I'm crazy. In his head he's saying _but I'm right here_ and I appreciate that, but I miss skating with him. I miss seeing him everyday. I miss having a best friend so close by that sometimes I want my space. I miss laughing at his stupid jokes, and I miss the unexplainable rush of energy I get when were in the same room. It all sounds sappy but it's true. 

He didn't say anything. Instead, he held my hand. For the first time in months, the way he used to hold it- softly, tenderly, with his thumbs brushing my knuckles and searching for a pulse in the tips of my fingers. 

The way that we agreed to stop doing, because normal people don’t do that, and we have to at least try to fit in with the rest of the world.

But now I wants it again. And I'm conflicted. And more than anything, I want _him_ to want it again. 

"I miss having you" I murmur, feeling a slight ping of embarrassment that I am letting myself go like this. I let my eyes fall down to my hands, fixating on my thumb in his grasp and how the other hand covers on top. The cab takes an unexpected right onto the highway and my head whips back so I'm meeting her gaze. "I miss...us" and the brown of his eyes encapture me again, except this time, I can feel that they don't want to let me go. I don't want them to. 

Maybe these exercises in being normal like bad tinder hookups, and school, no regimented schedule, and no constant person did some good for me, because it all seems to be clicking now. 

That night, Scott shows up at my hotel room. 

Lucky that he didn't show up ten minutes earlier, otherwise it would have been too tempting to invite him to shower with me. But for now, I open the door, fresh and clean and wrapped in a robe. "Yes?" I ask him and I feel my brow furrow as he looks like he's getting shy. "Wasn't expecting-" 

"Dinner tonight?" he interrupts. 

"Sure?" I ask in confusion. 

"It's a date" he states with certainty.

I can't help but laugh at him because it seems like a joke that Scott would tell, but he stands there, looking me in the eyes, expression no where close to changing. I abruptly stop. "Oh. You're not kidding." 

"If we're going to do this again, we're going to do it right" he says. 

This is a lot to process all at once, so I find myself staring at him until a coherent thought forms in my head. Then it makes sense and I break out into a smile and I feel my cheeks getting hot. "Right" I agree, and he leans in and kisses me, and I let him. 

I found out at dinner that he broke it off with Kaitlyn earlier that day. It was because of me, and usually I would feel guilty about that, but Scott made it very easy for me to forget about that. 

19

“No, Scott, the big wooden one goes on Side A,” I tell him, irritated, wiping my sweaty brow and leaving a trail of sawdust on my forehead which gets itchy very quickly. “If you look at the these ones—” I hold up the ones that are apparently not the big-wooden-ones “—they’re smaller than the ones in the picture!”

“The drawings aren’t really to scale,” he insists. “And plus these don’t fit into the holes. And can you crack open the windows? I’m dying in here.” I growl at him as I walk over to the windows and open them with a huff. The warm, sticky summer air floods into the room. We’re greeted with the ceaseless honking of the midday Montreal traffic.

I would've loved to be doing this _after_ I had my air conditioning installed, but I also would like a bed to sleep in. 

"We only get 16 of _these_ ones and 8 of _these_ ones,” I stand firm because I don't believe he's reading the instructions properly, holding these pieces of wood out in my palms. They’re all different but to Scott, they're all starting to look the same now, so he nods tiredly and I'm not here mess around.I am also way too cranky to be diplomatic, so I put the pegs in the holes and go to the next step.

"Okay, next it says we tighten the screws on this side..." I continue, letting my finger follow along on the page of directions and then lean over the board to look at the coloured side of the wood. I grab the screwdriver and start going at it. And then I hear a crack. 

"Oh my God. Did you break it?" Scott asked me, voice full of irritation. 

Never have I been really annoyed with Scott, but he's starting to get on my last nerve. I shoot him a glare and respond with "no, the wood just cracked a little bit." But I might have actually broken it. 

"Be careful" he tells me as I mutter 'shut it' under my breath, hoping that time he didn't catch on. IKEA furniture is notorious for testing relationships and even after 19 years, we are no different. I slide the two sides together, and stands of hair fall out of my bun in the process. 

Shit. I look at the bed and have to accept my defeat. I hesitate for a moment. "Scott, I think we did this backwards." 

He rises up onto his knees from his spot across from me. "We did what?"

"Yea, it's...completely backwards." 

"How the hell did we do that?" His annoyed tone echoes through the empty space. 

I'm tired, and this is bullshit, and I'm ready to snap. "We fucked up, obviously. And now we're going to take it apart and start over." Patience- gone. 

He grabs the instruction manual from the spot on the floor in front of me and he looks back up at the bed, then back to the manual, carefully studying the small illustrations. "It's fine" he says and throws it down. "The coloured part will just be on the inside instead of facing out. We've been at this for hours. We have to just go on.

Is he nuts? "No!" I hiss at him, my eyes widening at his absolutely ludicrous thought. “What’s the point of buying a _white_ bed if you don’t see the _white_ part of it?”

"It doesn't _matter_." 

"It _does_." 

Scott holds his head in his hands "Tess" he sighs, completely exhausted. 

I'm still raging. “Fine, you can leave and I’ll do it myself,” I retort, grabbing the hammer from him. I look at the places where nails have been put in, and one by one, I start yanking them out. 

"You can't put together a queen- sized bed by yourself" he tells me.

Oh no he didn't. "I have three Olympic medals, I think I can handle this." 

“If you have three Olympic medals why can’t you put one _goddamn bed together_ —”

“Alright, can it,” I interrupt, and he forces himself to keep his voice down. I glare back at him, and my face is beet- red, and not just from the sweltering summer heat. So is his. “We’ve already managed to do the rest of the move without clawing each other’s eyes out. We can do this.” I say, trying to stay calm but can't help but give the cardboard IKEA box a kick.

We both lean back a little and wipe the sweat that's dripping from our foreheads and necks. "Sorry" he says. 

I sigh. I hate fighting with him. "I'm sorry too." 

We stare at each other from opposite sides of the half-constructed bed lying in the middle of the carpet and a minesweeper arrangement of bolts and screws and pegs and wooden planks scattered around us. Scott looked finished, his shirt now wet. 

All of a sudden, he bursts out in laughter. 

"Scott" I knit my brows together in irritation. Now is not the time to be laughing. 

"Come here" he says as he hurdles over the boards between us and collects me into a sweaty hug. I squeak out of disgust and drop the hammer. 

"Gross" I tell him, but then quickly remember how much I love being in his embrace. I forget about the layer of sweat between us and hug him back, burying my face into his shoulder as I begin to relax. "Sorry again" I murmur. 

"We need a break" Scott decides, and he lets me loose and takes my hand. "Let's get the hell out of here."

So we get the hell out of there, blinking in the bright sunlight of a hazy summer afternoon as we walk down the sidewalk from my new apartment. We’ve only been in Montreal for a couple of days but we already figured out that if we keep walking down the road, we’d hit an ice cream shop that sells soft-serve cones for dirt cheap. With the humidity sticking to my back like a gum on the bottom of a shoe, Scott grabs my arm and make a beeline for that ice cream shop. The building itself is nothing more than a box with a window, but it’s decidedly better than nothing, when all we have in our apartments is an empty fridge and cold showers.

We make it to the soft-serve place relatively unscathed (only one asshole driver tried to hit us as we were crossing the street—he cussed us out in French and veered away in his rusty 2008 Nissan Versa before I could retaliate. Not that I could’ve said anything back. I do know a little French, but not enough to swear or say anything unpleasant). We get our cones and sit together on a nearby park bench, enjoying the ice cream and each other’s company.

Scott puts his arm around me and pulls me close. With anyone else, I would have kept my distance. A sweaty person in scorching heat making physical contact is a no no, but it's Scott. I spend most days with him when we're both sweaty and tired, so this is comfortable. I snuggle in a little closer and continue to lick my ice cream, enjoying the bit of cold for the time that it lasts. 

"Also" he leans down and whispers in my ear. I move my head a little closer so I don't miss what he says. "I forgot to say back there." 

I let my eyes move up to his. "Uh huh?" I prompt him to continue. 

He cups his hand over my ear and I brace myself for either something so sweet my heart will melt, or a very poor joke. " I also have three Olympic medals." I let out a loud and obnoxious laugh. 

"Let's get back, huh? Try not to stick a nail in my eye while you're at it" he says as he gets up from the bench and reaches for my hand. I gladly accept and look at our sweat marks that have been pressed into the wood before we walk away. 

So we return to my place with the half-constructed bed and the minesweeper carpet, as hot and as sticky as ever, but everything seems alright with ice cream in our bellies and a good attitude between us. We painstakingly take the bed apart, start over, and reassemble it correctly this time. We fall into the natural groove of our partnership and it goes ten times faster than it went the first time. It’s really a miracle whenever Scott and I put our minds to something—we could probably take over the world if we really wanted to.

By the time we finish, it’s dark outside, and the temperature cools and the air is more forgiving. Scott lets out a grunt as he tosses the mattress onto the bedframe with a satisfying thud, and throws himself onto it in relief. I laugh at him when he says "we did it" but then his dirty boots hit the mattress. 

"Scott!" I gasp, hoping it will startle him to move. 

"Get on here" he tells me. 

I look down at my clothes, covered in sawdust and sweat and I think about how I really don't want to get my mattress too dirty. "We're not done yet" he adds. 

"We're not?" I inquire further, tilting my head in question. I have an idea as to where this is going. 

Scott's grin gives it away. "There's one more thing we have to do." 

My face changes to playful disgust. "Get out of here" I tease him.

He responds by patting on the mattress firmly, trying to lure me over to the space next to him. 

I sigh in resignation. "Well, I'm showering first" I tell him, because this feeling is gross and uncomfortable, and if we're going to get even closer, then this is not going to work. "I _should_ finally have hot water today" I say excitedly and toss my hair, freeing it from the messy ponytail it was scooped into. Now I can give back some of the fun. "Although I'm not entirely sure..." I begin as I raise a finger to my lips, patting gently. "I might need someone to help inspect it for me." 

I head for the bathroom and the clunk of Scott's work boots follow closely behind. 

20

I've been finding it really hard to sleep in lately. I can't pinpoint exactly why, but it might have something to do with overheating. The blanket is heavy, and Scott is a naturally warm person. Or maybe it was the mix of excitement and anxiety of getting back into a regimented training schedule. 

I sneak out of bed quietly at about 4:45 and head for the shower. As I turn off the shower, I can hear the sound of the 5am alarm through the door. It's shut off fairly quick, but that doesn't necessarily mean Scott is up and at 'em. 

I throw my hair up into a towel, and grab another to wrap my body with before I head back out into the bedroom. 

He's half sitting up in the bed so that's a good start. "Good morning" I try to be cheerful and add a wide smile. He grumbles something I don't catch as I continue on to look for my skating gear I am going to wear today. When I'm done, I pack my skating bag, occasionally glancing back at Scott, wondering when he's going to get out of bed. 

I turn to him when I'm finished getting ready, trying to keep that same smile on my face. "Hello" I say softly, hoping that he'll respond this time. 

He blinks sleep out of his eyes and a small grin plays on his lips. "Hi" he croaks his first word of the day.

"See something interesting?" I ask him as I remember one more pair of yoga pants I need for the day. 

"Those pants look good on you" he comments and I feel myself blush a little. 

"I've been wearing the same ones to practice for six years" I inform him. 

He scratches his head, surely thinking of a way to cover himself. "I'm just noticing them now" he onfesses. "Guess I've never really been looking." 

I cross the room back over to the bed and take his hands in mine. They're warm and soft, and I can feel him slightly massaging my palms. "Feeling sentimental right now, Moir?" I tease. 

He presses his lips to my knuckles as he says "last first day" and then gives my hands back to me. I would have been okay if he didn't. 

His words overcome me with emotion and I feel tears starting to well in my eyes. It's too early to start crying, so I hold them back for as long as I can. "Don't do this to me at five in the morning" I whisper, doing this weird half- laugh, half- choking cry/ sniffle before I get up to stop myself from thinking about it. 

"Sorry, kiddo" he says. 

"Kiddo" I repeat back, almost in shock that he used that nick name. It's been a long time since I've heard that one. "Still your kiddo, huh?" I ask him. 

"Always" he replies, and finally pulls himself out of bed, making his way over to the bathroom to shower. He stops on his way by, placing a kiss on my forehead before smiling and disappearing behind the door. He leaves me grinning ear to ear. 

I never really put my cooking skills to the test considering I make the same thing almost everyday. I make myself some eggs and toast and Scott is usually fine with toast and peanut butter, but I won't tell him I used the last two slices on myself and I make him some oatmeal. He's ready just in time to grab his bowl as we're heading out the door. 

There’s almost nobody on the road at this time—there never really is. In the car, we listen to the same Moulin Rogue CD we’ve been listening to for the past three weeks. _First, there is desire. Then, passion! Then, suspicion... Jealousy, anger, betrayal!_

"Roxanne" Scott wails in a deep growl. "You don't have to put on that red light."

"Walk the streets for money, you don't care if it's wrong or if it is right" I wail back. 

And so the first day starts as it always has, for the past twenty years. Scott and I n a car, listening to our program music on loop, sometimes resulting in impromtu karaoke sessions, pausing only at the Tim Horton’s drive-thru to grab a cup of coffee before splitting it to the rink.

The day continues as it always has, with our coaches stopping us every three seconds to question whether or not we really want to skate to Moulin Rogue at our last Olympics, and how there were plenty of other perfectly good music choices that would be more unique, more fitting, but Scott and stand our ground. Marie and Patch glance at each other, uncertainly, but I can see them resigning to the fact that they won’t be able to change our minds.

“How long do you think we can pull the ‘This Is Our Last Olympics’ card?” I ask Scott as I unlace my skates at our lunch break. 

"Until February 25th, 2018" he deadpans. 

We go out for lunch today at the nearby sandwich shop for a few reasons. One, Scott didn't get out of bed until 15 minutes before we had to leave. Two, we have no food, and three, this place is too tasty and convenient. When I order my Mocha, the waitress recognizes who we are and when I receive said drink, it arrives with latte art resemblant of the Olympic rings. And now I'm trying not to cry. Even better is Scott decided to treat me today, even though I insisted it was my turn. 

The rest of the day goes the way it’s always gone. We skate, we argue with each other over music cuts, we practice lifts and invent choreo and lean back on the boards to chat with the other Gadbois skaters. But I start to notice the little things. The small hum of the florescent light in change room three , the hockey puck mark that goes right through a realtors eye on one of the advertisements on the boards, the patch of bumpy ice in the far left corner that never seems to get ironed out. The smell in the locker rooms that makes me think of old milk. How it takes exactly 13 seconds for the shower water to go from ice cold to scalding hot.

I feel like a baby for getting so sentimental today, considering we aren't done here yet. Everything is new and old and gleeful and depressing at the same time. I feel every emotion I know in the span of my eight our day and I'm ready to go home and curl up on the couch with some ice cream and watch a bad tv show. It's a delicate balance because that perspective changes when I see Scott fiercely watching Patch's feet when he's trying to demonstrate something, or running over footwork over and over. I see his dedication, and that's when I realize I want these moments to last a lifetime. 

The day ends in the same way it’s always ended. We take our showers, we change out of our sweaty workout clothes, and meet each other in the lobby. I meet Scott's brown eyes from across the room and I reach my hand out to lock with his and without fail, he gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Our last first day ends the way it began, twenty years ago. Hand in hand. Together.


	5. epilogue

We went to visit our families in Ontario for a little bit after the Olympics, but today we're returning to Montreal to create some show programs for our upcoming tour in Japan. Even though I leave for Provence in a couple days, Scott had figured it was better that we went back to Montreal the way we left it. Together. Were greeted by a blanket of thick and heavy snow that we consider our home away from home.

I think the Uber Scott had called for us knew we we're at the Olympics considering we are still dawning our Canadian apparel. The conversation was kept small as he asked how the games were and then moved onto what we did for a living. As I get into the cab, I have to think about the answer for a second. "We're ice dancers" I tell him simply. "Well, we used to be. We retired" I continue. We didn't really decide we're retiring, but it's the inevitable and if we tell people that, hopefully it avoids more questions. 

I look over at Scott and smile at him, he grins back and that's what I needed to see. 

"Retired!" the driver exclaimed. His french accent makes this a little simple word sound more intense then it needed to be. "You must be what, 20 years old?" he asks. 

"I wish" Scott replies. 

I can't help but laugh, mostly because it's kinda nice that he doesn't know who we are. "We've been at this a while" I continue as I find myself reaching for Scott's hand in the darkness of the backseat. 

"Bring back any hardware?" the driver continues. 

"Two golds, actually" Scott tells him casually. 

His eyes move briefly from off the road to looking at us in the rearview mirror. His eyes widen and I know that it clicks in his head as to who he is driving around. "You're those two" excitement rising in his voice. "Virtue and Moir. I've seen you all over the news. Man! So beautiful. You two are beautiful together. Making Canada proud."

I blush a little and truly appreciate the compliments. "Thank you" I tell him graciously and squeeze Scott's hand. 

The conversation is made mostly between the driver and I for the remainder of the ride considering Scott had fallen asleep next to me. It's small talk. I ask how long he's been driving for uber, how long he's lived in Montreal, he asks why we chose to train here and what my favourite part of the Olympics was, and then the next thing I know we're in front of my apartment complex. 

Scott woke up just as the driver had pulled to a stop and he quickly hopped out to help unload our suitcases. We thank the driver and pay him before he leaves and then it's just the two of us again. The cold night air and the snowflakes falling makes for an almost perfect scene. 

"It's cold" Scott says as he notices his breath in the air. "You'd better get inside and warm up" he tells me as he rubs my shoulders. "Well. Have a good day tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?" He tells me as his parting words. 

I gave him my best smile, trying to fight through the tiredness that I am very obviously feeling. I tuck a strand that had blown in my face behind my ear. "It's just straight to bed, sleeping in tomorrow, packing, and then straight back to the airport." I sigh and let my shoulders drop. 

Scott moves his hands slowly around my waist and then around my back into a tight hug. He breathes in deep a few times as he buries his head into my neck and I follow suit. "Enjoy France" he muffles and I squeeze him a little harder. "You deserve it. Tell your mom I say hi." 

"I will" I promise him as I pull away and let my cold hand pat his cheek lightly. We lock eyes momentarily and take in the feeling of content that his eyes bring me. "I love you" I say, softly. 

A small smile creeps on his lips. "I love you too" he tells me. 

It's freezing cold out and I want to go inside, but I can't help but feel anything but warm in Scott's arms. 

It's slowly taken over by the actual bitter coldness and I finally speak up. "Well" I breathe in and release myself from his grasp. I don't want to say goodbye, but I know I should get to sleep. Scott is standing in front of me waiting to continue and I'm doing everything in my power to not wrap myself back up in him. I bite my lip and continue. "Bye, Scott. I hope I'll see you again soon." There's truth to this because I don't know when I will see him next. How long after I get back? Hard to know. 

Scott starts to grin, and it's one of his goofy ones. "Hope?" he asks. "I've stuck around for twenty years, you can't get rid of me that easily" he tells me as he playfully ruffles my hair. 

It's true. It'll be hard to stay away from each other considering our commitments, but it's hard not to think about. I match his smile. "I'm sure you have lot's of plans" I tease him. 

His smile fades and he scratches his head. "Not really" he confesses. "I'm probably going to head back home to see the fam again. And then.. I don't know what." 

I nod at his plans, and knowing Scott, he'll find something to do in the mean time.

And then it's silent again. 

A shiver comes over me and I speak up again. "Well, goodbye." The word is harsh this time and I feel myself getting ready to cry. 

"Tessa" Scott says softly, pleading with me to fight back tears, because I know that if I start, he would start too. He took my hands one more time, doing the thing he does where his thumbs draw soft circles and push down on the points that relieve the pressure.

He lets out a long sigh and starts again. " _Tessa_. Kiddo. T. Tutu. Princess. Baby." He used every nickname in the book and if I wasn't crying before, I can feel a hot tear roll down my cheek now. My eyes widen as he continues. " _Jesus_. You're so neurotic sometimes. You _will_ see me again. This isn't the end" he tells me as he shakes his head in what seems like disbelief. "Not if you don't want it to be" he adds as grips my hands so much tighter, I know he isn't ready to let go. 

I'm not ready to let go either. 

He lets out another sigh and I know that he's getting tired. He takes my hands and moves them up to him, letting them rest on his cheeks. A tactic to keep him warm, or a tactic to get me to stay, I'm not sure. "What do you want?" he asks, soft and calm as his eyes flutter shut anticipating my answer. 

"I want to see you again" I tell him with no hesitation. "A lot. Maybe everyday for the rest of my life." I feel myself getting lighter, like I lifted my biggest secret off my chest. 

His eyes pop open at my revelation. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe?" he asks as he cocks his head to the side. 

"Definitely."

I use this pause to take in everything that's happened in this exchange. 

"Then we'll make it happen" he states firmly. 

I can't help but smile. "I'm sure we will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's all over :( thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much @maiaronan for letting me work on this with you! I cannot wait to continue this!


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